


Project Aphrodite

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Partners Draco and Harry, Characters with Flaws, Draco pov, Drama, F/M, Likely More Tags to be Added As We Go, Previous Relationship, Romance, Sexual Content, TW: Chapter 12 - Depictions of Violence, TW: Chapter 12 - Mentions of Rape/Non Con, TW: Chapter 12 - Psychological Trauma, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers-to-strangers-to-friends-to-lovers-again, marriage law, unspeakable hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 86,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: When a decision from the British Ministry years after the war blindsides the public, Draco doesn’t think it can get much worse. However, when all the blame is placed on the shoulders of someone he’s not supposed to care about anymore, he can’t turn away. It would help if Hermione Granger wasn’t so fucking stubborn, but she’s exactly how he remembers.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass (short-lived), Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum (short-lived), Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 564
Kudos: 1068





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends. I've been teasing this for a while, so here we are. It takes a village for me to finally post things, and my village was pretty spectacular with this project. So, all my thanks to msmerlin, mcal, quintalon, feelingofthesea, anne_ammons, and dreamsofdramione on this one. I'm posting this really late, so if I have missed any crediting to the help I've had, I'll definitely fix it in the morning!
> 
> I plan on this being the only long author's note in the story. This story has no fixed length. I have an outline of major plot points to work my way to and from, but I am partially letting my imagination guide me because this is meant to be fun and not stressful. That being said, I've got a bulk written to keep a healthy head start. Updates will be around every ten days. As much as I would love to update weekly, it's not something I'm currently able to commit too. I hope you'll come along for the journey anyway though!
> 
> This is a marriage law entirely from Draco's POV. He's not the best narrator. Sometimes I want to choke him and I'm sure you will too. In this fic, they both start out in separate relationships. There is no infidelity, and these relationships end quickly. If you don't like marriage laws, or a Draco who has an abundance of flaws, this is probably not the fic for you. Hermione is not perfect either.
> 
> Also, I've got no intention of getting off the enemies-to-friends-to-lovers-to-strangers-to-friends-lovers train any time soon. I hope you understand. Lol.

* * *

Draco's fingers slipped against the condensation of the glass, and he tipped the edge of the tumbler to his lips, draining the last swallow. From his seat at the counter, he watched Weasley and Potter serenade George with an absolutely terrible rendition of some Muggle song. They sang it every year, at every birthday, no matter who begged them not to.

Draco was the one who begged them not to. Yet, every June, he was subjected to a reminder that the pair was utterly tone deaf.

George seemed to like it, though, if the wide smile curving his lips was any indication. Flush from copious amounts of booze already, his booming laughter filled the room.

Draco shifted in his seat, his elbows propped against the counter and he pushed the now empty glass toward the bartender.

"You shouldn't drink so much." Theo's unwelcome opinion announced his arrival, and Draco turned to glare. "Unless, of course, you _want_ Astoria to be angry, then you're doing a bang up job."

Just the name of his fiance made his head pound, and the firewhisky only made it worse. "Tori's always angry. Not like it matters how much I drink, I'm sure she'll be asleep when I get home anyway." _With any luck_.

He would have liked to blame Theo for the turn his life had taken—it had been his idea to settle down, to do the right thing by his family—but it wasn't as if Theo had forced a box into his hand with one of the most ostentatious rings in his vault. That credit actually belonged to his mother, and it had happened immediately after asking his parents for their opinion.

"She didn't want to come?" Theo's voice pulled him from his self-pitying thoughts. "You invited her, didn't you?"

"Of course I bloody invited her."

Potter's voice cracked behind him at the height of the song and Draco winced.

Another glass was pushed toward him, and he tipped it back. "I invite her to every event, but does she come? Of course she fucking doesn't, Theo." The path the firewhisky burned down his throat was barely noticeable now. "Where's Daphne?"

"She's visiting her parents tonight."

He made a non-committal sound and swallowed again. "It's a shame Tori didn't go with her."

"Is it?"

"We were supposed to see them last week but I came here instead for drinks with everyone," Draco muttered, his blood already rising. The weekly tradition had been in place for years, but it wasn't as if everyone could make it every week. Sometimes there were others missing, sometimes it was just him and two others. A week ago, it had been just him and Granger. She'd walked into the pub, seen him, and turned on her heel without ever speaking a word. He'd like to say it hadn't stung, but that would be a lie. He'd always looked forward to the weekly tradition when he wasn't away. "Astoria scheduled a formal dinner with her parents without consulting me first."

"So? They're going to be your in-laws—"

"No, you're not understanding. Tori made the plans knowing full well I was already busy. She did it on purpose, Theo."

"She just wants to spend time with you, mate. You're away so often for missions, and you work late nights. Can you fault her for that?"

Absolutely.

The relationship had never felt like much of one, even in the beginning. They had a decent time together, but that wasn't reason enough to marry her. "You see it differently than I do."

Theo tapped his fingers to the counter. "I think you're regretting the decision to marry her, and you've not done a good job concealing that."

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line. "Father says it's cold feet."

"Yes, well, one doesn't typically have cold feet from the moment they decide to propose. For fuck's sake, Draco, you hadn't even done it yet, and your entire demeanor had already changed." He wasn't wrong.

God, it felt like the witch sucked the life out of him without doing anything truly _wrong_. "What would you have me do about it?"

"I'd say that you need to reconsider before you follow through with a ceremony that binds you to her permanently."

"I'll think about it."

"Harry!" A feminine laugh filled the pub, and Draco turned before he could think better of it. Granger threw her arms around his partner's neck, and squeezed until Potter patted her back.

George pointed towards himself. "You'll hug the Chosen One before you hug the birthday boy? I'm hurt, Hermione." He batted his eyes, and she laughed. Granger hugged him tightly, swaying with him as he swung her around.

While he'd watched that a bit more closely than he should have, Draco was more fixed on who Granger had brought with her. His mouth dried, and he reached to his side, fumbling to grab his glass of firewhisky.

Krum looped an arm around her waist, hand flattening against her stomach, and he pulled her back into his chest. He dipped his head, and whispered in her ear.

Her cheeks filled with colour, and she batted his wandering hand away with a laugh.

He thought he was going to be sick.

Nearing the counter with empty glasses, Potter looked at him, then followed his stare. Immediately, he appeared defensive, but he didn't say anything of the sort. "They reconnected recently when he came to England for a match."

"I told Daphne I would meet her at home." Theo pushed away from the counter. "Think about what I said, Draco. I'm serious."

"What was that about?" Harry waved down the bartender.

"Astoria."

He nodded. "Ah, the usual then?"

"You don't have to sound so fucking smug about it."

Potter flashed him a grin and shrugged. "It's not often that I'm right and you're wrong. I have to savor it."

"You're such a prick." Draco sighed. "Theo thinks I should consider breaking off the engagement."

"Sound advice, isn't it? You've been dreading the wedding even though it was your idea." Harry thanked the woman who slid the tray toward him. "Sorry, that sounded better in my head. What happened this time?"

He didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it made it all the more _real_. "She's furious that I came tonight rather than staying home. I invited her, but you can obviously see how that went." Astoria had been the subject of many conversations. "She loathes my friends, my career, and basically everything else that I happen to enjoy—"

Harry took a long drink from one of the glasses on the tray. "Do you think you could ever be happy with her?"

Draco's mouth snapped shut. "It's not as simple as being happy. I know you were raised by Muggles, but—"

Harry's eyes sharpened as he pinned Draco with a hard look. "Don't turn this into an insult about my childhood because you're lying to yourself about why you're getting married in the first place."

"It's what I'm supposed to do." _Get married, have an heir._ "It's just the way things are, Potter."

"Not anymore."

Draco dragged a hand down his face. "Alright, fine, maybe it's not the way it's always done anymore, but it's the way—"

"The Malfoys are." Potter arched a dark brow while taking another long swallow.

Behind Potter, he watched her from across the pub. He'd seen her with boyfriends before, and it shouldn't have been any different. Maybe it was the burn trailing down his throat that kept eyes glued to her.

Granger's head fell back as she laughed, and her fingers wrapped around Krum's forearm. As if that weren't enough, she leaned into him, tilted her head up to brush her lips against his, and—

Potter cleared his throat. "I'm going to pretend this isn't happening. You probably ought to do the same."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Even though his partner knew it was a lie, Harry didn't call him on it. Instead, he swallowed another drink, and nodded. "Right, of course you don't. If you decide to stop moping at the bar, come over."

"I'm _not_ moping." When Potter stepped away, Draco was left with a full view of the scene and he couldn't seem to look away.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Long ago, in moments that felt like they belonged to someone else's life, that had been _him_ in Krum's place. There had been plenty of stolen moments in alcoves after curfew, in the nooks of the library, in the girls' dormitory once he'd managed to get past the barrier spells. There'd been plenty of them all over the castle until he'd walked away.

Shaking the thought loose, Draco reached down to button the front of his suit, and nodded to the bartender as he took his glass with him. The loo was just beyond the couple, and he suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Draco thought he might vomit. _There's nothing different about this time_ , he thought, but that was a lie.

The last time Granger had brought a date around him, he hadn't been engaged. Astoria had been in the picture, but only slightly. They had been orbiting each other through strategically arranged meetings his mother had arranged, _but_ he hadn't been _engaged._ Her date, which hadn't lasted past that night, hadn't been serious.

And for the smallest window of time, it had been easy to pretend that he could cross a room to speak to her without the fear that she'd slap him.

It wasn't possible. This was the same woman who had walked out of the pub when she saw it was only him. Hermione Granger didn't want a fucking thing to do with him, and they both knew the only reason she didn't say as much was because of her two best friends.

Krum kissed her neck.

Through a veil of slurred thoughts, and stumbled steps, Draco could remember that it was the wrong spot. The _right_ spot was just a bit lower, where her throat met her shoulder, and he could recall cupping the nape of her neck while his knee pressed between her thighs…

Draco meant to do it.

He just didn't mean for it to turn out how it did. There was a wrinkle in the rug draped across the floor, and while feigning to trip over it, the fact that he really was beyond fucking pissed made its ugly appearance. While he'd meant to dump his drink over Krum—and hopefully get his hands off of Granger—the tumbler had veered just so.

The apology was out of his mouth before he even recovered his balance. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. Granger, are you alright?" Draco's hand rose on its own, and he nearly made a fool of himself by reaching for her.

She glared at him, familiar flecks of gold catching under the shitty light of a dive bar. "What is wrong with you?" Her voice cracked through the air. It was slight, but her eyes watered a bit as she glanced down at herself. "I'm soaked."

 _Shite_. "I'm sorry."

Ignoring him, and his flimsy attempt at an apology, Granger wrung her hair. "I'll just go home and change." She'd already turned towards Krum. "You can come with me if you'd like. I won't be very long."

Her date looped his arm around her waist, hand skimming up her side, and Draco watched, unable to turn away, as Krum's fingers skimmed the side of her breast. They made their way toward the public floo, but they weren't far enough that Draco couldn't hear when Krum suggested, "I could just help you out of your clothes."

His accent grated Draco's ears.

A weak, feminine giggle could still be heard. "And are you going to help me into more clothes?''

Draco didn't need to hear the response to that to know what it was.

Besides, the truth drove itself home _hard_ when neither of them returned within the next hour. Potter glanced at him over the rims of his glasses, one dark brow arched. "Are you alright?"

 _Not even fucking close_.

Draco swallowed, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. "Fine. I'm going to get home. Tori's probably wondering where I am." It was a lie, and both of them knew it. His fiance wasn't likely to be waiting up for him. "I'll see you in the morning."

Potter opened his mouth again, no doubt to continue his questioning, but Draco shook his head, and turned on his heel. He still heard his partner yelling after him as he threw open the door of the Leaky stepped into the cold January air.

* * *

The walk to the Apparition point gave him time to clear his head, and it might have worked if he hadn't drank so much. Too bad, considering he _had_ done exactly that, and his headache had nothing to do with slinging back multiple drinks. With his hands tucked in his pockets, fingers curled around the thin profile of his wand, Draco vanished from the spot at the end of Diagon Alley.

Landing in the sitting room with the faint _thud_ of his boots, Draco rolled his head from side to side as he glanced out the window.

"You're home late."

He tensed.

"The very least you could do is turn around when I talk to you."

Draco's headache doubled and he pinched the bridge of his nose when he turned to face her. "Are you happy now?"

Clad in a skimpy nightgown that should have enticed him, Astoria folded her arms over her chest. There really was no question whether the move had been deliberate in order to push her breasts up. He knew exactly how Astoria's mind worked. "No, I'm not."

Draco shrugged out of his coat, and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. "Imagine that," he muttered.

Apparently, it hadn't been concealed under his breath like he'd hoped.

"Are you _drunk_?" She stormed up to him, curling her fingers under his chin, and pressed her manicured nails into his cheeks. "Draco, it's after midnight!"

"Hadn't noticed. I told you to come with me, Tori. It was a party." _Some of us had more fun than others, unfortunately._ "What did you expect?"

"I thought you'd be home at a reasonable time!" she shrieked, and _fuck_ , it hurt his head. "It's terrible enough that you're always home late due to something at work—"

Missions, she meant. Specifically the assignments that she believed he was always given. Merlin, Astoria would lose her fucking mind if she ever found out he'd been asking for the longest assignments, the ones that were as far away as he could go.

"But now it's—"

Normally he'd let her continue her vents—she was probably entitled to them anyway given what a shitty partner he was—but Draco rolled his eyes. _That_ got her attention. "It was a friend's birthday."

"I wanted to spend time with you."

Draco snorted. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to do. "Shite, Tori—" It wasn't that he wanted to hurt her, not that it made him any better. Maybe Theo _was_ right, but he was too pissed to think about that conversation now.

Her eyes watered. "Sleep on the sofa, Draco. Don't come to bed." Astoria shook her head, and left him to stare at the ceiling. "It's always something with you!"

Content to let her have the last word, Draco collapsed on the sofa without taking off his boots, and passed out within moments.

* * *

"What do you think of this, Draco?" Mother rose from her chair, and slid the invitation across the counter toward him.

Glancing downward, he thought it looked no better—or worse—than all of the others he'd been shown in the last week. "It's pretty. What does Tori think?" It seemed that his wife-to-be had already left their flat without speaking a word to him. That shouldn't have relieved him as much as it did.

"You scowl when you say her name."

He froze, tea sloshing from side to side as it stopped nearly at his lips. "What?"

His mother's eyes narrowed. "It's barely noticeable, but as your mother, I notice everything."

Draco sipped his tea, wincing as it scalded his tongue. "The invitations are fine, Mother. Whatever Tori wants."

"And what of what _you_ want?"

Clearly, she wasn't talking about the invitations anymore.

Mercifully, the door opened and the familiar sound of heels clicking against the tile filled the air. Astoria stopped in the doorway, eyes widening slightly. "I didn't know you were coming over, Narcissa. I would have been here if I'd known."

The ridiculously high heel of his mother's shoe pressed into his toe—through the toe of his boots even—and cut off his voice.

"Oh, I was just showing Draco the invitations we settled on last week." His mother's eyes crinkled as she flashed what could almost be considered a genuine smile.

A trap. It'd been a trap to get him talking.

Draco took a long drink. "They're pretty."

Astoria wasn't pleased. A frown dragged down the edges of her lips, but she gave a stiff nod. "It's good that you're still home. I expected you to already be gone. It'll be better for you to take care of it."

_Click. Click. Click._

She pressed an envelope into his chest, the paint on her nails shiny below the lights. "For some reason, one of our invitations was returned. Since the two of you work together, I assumed it would be no problem for you to drop it off."

After his drunken arrival home, Draco didn't argue with her. Clearly, he'd already been enough of an arse if the way she refused to meet his eye was anything to go by. "Of course. The DMLE is small enough—"

Astoria's lips pressed into a thin line. "Oh, no. It's not another auror."

He turned the invitation over, and his stomach dropped. With two sets of eyes on him, scrutinizing him—both for wildly different reasons—Draco forced a smile. He'd had enough practice doing it, and Astoria didn't seem to notice.

His mother, on the other hand, never missed anything.

* * *

It wasn't a far trip to the Department of Mysteries, and for reasons that were entirely his own, Draco was glad the two departments didn't overlap much. Very rarely did he have to descend to that floor, but it was just his ruddy luck that when he did have to go, it was for _her_.

Hermione fucking Granger.

Draco turned the parcel over again, his stomach hardening as his gaze swept over it. He'd drop it on her desk, mutter something she'd expect from him, and he'd leave. Simple enough, except he already knew that wasn't going to happen.

He'd put his foot in his mouth, and probably stick around to make sure he'd made an arse out of himself since that seemed to be his prerogative when it came to her.

The other option was to not deliver the invitation at all, and it grew more appealing with each floor he dropped. It wasn't as if he wanted to invite Granger to his wedding, but it would be an awkward snub if he didn't because he'd already invited Potter and Weasley. At least this way, she could say there was a prior engagement, and they could both pretend it wasn't because of the week before graduation.

But they both knew it was about that night.

It was a given. She still left any room if they were ever alone, and she always avoided sitting beside him. Or across from him.

Fuck, she drove him crazy.

The lift gave an awful creak.

Granger wouldn't show up anyway, he reassured himself. _But what if she did?_ Wondering wouldn't get him anywhere, but the unwanted thought did bring up a rather good point. She'd bring a date, and the self-induced image of her attending with Krum left a bad taste in his mouth.

The doors began to open before the lift had completely stopped, and he considered continuing downward.

It was ridiculous. He'd drop off the envelope, maybe tell her to learn how to receive mail, and then he'd go back to the DMLE, where there was undoubtedly a case.

Maybe this would give him a chance to apologize properly after dumping firewhisky on her the weekend earlier. It would be a better talking point than insulting her ability to get her mail, anyway.

Granger's office was located at the farthest end of the corridor and his steps slowed as he neared it. Draco entered without knocking, certain she'd tell him to get out if he announced himself, but wasn't prepared to find her slumped over her desk.

She didn't raise her head at the sound of the door, but he could see her shoulders shaking. "Drop whatever it is on my desk and please leave."

It was an out. He could dump the wedding invitation on her desk and duck out without a word, without an awkward run in with his ex-girlfriend. For reasons unknown to him, though, Draco tucked the envelope into the back pocket of his trousers. "Granger…"

Her head snapped up, and she sat straight up, the sharp movement punctuated by her knee slamming into the underside of her desk. "Malfoy?" Granger wiped her eyes.

The sight of her face streaked with tears grappled something inside his chest, and he wished it was possible to step around the desk. _Pull her against me—_ Draco cleared his throat with difficulty. "Are you alright?"

She sniffed. "No."

Right, it had been a ridiculous question, he supposed. "What's wrong?"

Wiping her eyes again, she shook her head. "I can't talk about it." While it was a step better than her telling him to just get the fuck out, it wasn't that much better.

He didn't understand right away. "I know there's not love lost between us, but if you're this upset—"

Granger laughed miserably. "No, I mean I _can't_ talk about this." She waved her hand around her and it dawned on him. "There you go. I'd talk about this if I could, even if it was with you, but I've taken an oath as an Unspeakable."

He knew those contracts were ironclad.

"What brought you down here?"

Clearing his throat, Draco muttered, "Just needed to see someone else and I heard you crying." It was a flimsy lie. He knew she'd see right through it. "Take care of yourself, Granger. If there's anything I can do…"

Her eyes filled with tears again, and she ducked her head down. "Nothing you or anyone else can do. Please close the door on your way out."

Draco didn't breathe another word as the lock clicked, but he rested against the door. No doubt she could see the shadow of his body through the frosted glass window. After drawing several breaths, he set out to find Potter or Weasley.

Either of them would do. He kept repeating that to himself so he wouldn't camp out in her office until she talked to him.

It wasn't Draco's business anyway.

* * *


	2. Chapter Two

A stag bounded into the bedroom, and Draco sat straight up. The sheets bunched at his waist as he dragged a hand down his face. " _Robards wants all aurors in the DMLE now. Something's happened._ " Potter's Patronus revealed nothing else. With his stomach twisting, Draco stole a peek at the woman laying next to him.

Astoria was awake. She reached for him sleepily. Her fingers closed around his forearm, and she nuzzled the patch of skin there. "What's wrong?" Draco doubted she would remember this when she woke up in a few hours. "Draco?"

"I don't know." Brushing her hair back, Draco was reminded that, for all their arguments, none of them were truly her fault. All she wanted was to be married to someone who loved her. What a pity that it had to be him. "You should go back to sleep. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"No, you won't." Astoria didn't let go of him, but her eyes fluttered shut. "We have a meeting with a caterer later today. If you can't make it, I'm going to make the decision by myself. That's not really new, though, is it?"

His heart slowed, and an apology formed, just at the tip of his tongue. "Astoria, I—"

She gave a soft, little snore and turned her face into the sheets. Her grip on him loosened, but he stayed in bed for just a few more moments.

Draco's whispered apology went unnoticed, but it wouldn't have meant a damn thing even if she'd heard it.

* * *

Potter rushed him in the atrium and Weasley wasn't far behind him. "Fucking took you long enough. Robards is waiting in the conference room."

The Ministry was silent so early in the morning, the atrium empty besides the three of them, and Draco cast a look at the dim lights overhead. "You said he wanted all aurors here?" The three of them crossed the room in a hurry and climbed into the lift. "What happened?"

That was the question. Already, Draco wondered if there had been an attack, which was the only reason he could believe Robards wanted all of them in the same room outside of a meeting. Even then, they were never together. There were just too many people.

"Don't know." Ron raked his fingers through his hair. "He didn't say, but sounds like it's bad."

They stepped out as the lift came to a wheezing stop. Down the corridor, in the last room on the left, Draco saw that Potter hadn't been kidding. It looked like every person in the department had arrived. Robards stood behind the podium at the front, which looked like a toy compared to the large figure behind it. "Alright," his voice boomed, cutting off the idle chatter. "We've got a few of you missing, but there's no time to wait. Have a seat." He nodded to them.

Slipping into one of the only free chairs, and cutting Harry off to get it, Draco turned his gaze towards the front of the room. To his right, Susan Bones bounced her leg under the table. Across from him, Terry Boot chewed his nails. So, he wasn't the only one who noticed the tension in the room.

"In a few hours, Minister Shacklebolt is going to issue a statement to the public. The Wizengamot has passed a new bill since last night and—" He gritted his teeth, flexed his fingers around the edges of the podium until his knuckles were white. "They're expecting backlash."

His partner pinched his shoulder, and Draco swatted his hand away, mouthing, " _Quit it."_

"What law? Can't be that bad." A junior auror spoke out, his face going pale when all eyes fell to him.

Robards swallowed, his throat contracting with the movement. "Since the end of the war, there's been a drop in births. From my limited understanding, there's usually a boom—"

"I know _I_ was shagging anything that could walk because I was so relieved to be alive." Draco didn't know where the whisper—not that it was much of one—came from, but quiet agreements chimed in and led to the reddening of their boss's face.

"Right." Robards' voice remained tight. "Well, maybe that happened this time, too, but it didn't lead to children."

It had only been eight years. Was that even enough time for the Ministry to decide that the problem was bad enough to intervene? Draco couldn't imagine how they _could_ intervene, but as lead formed in the pit of his stomach, he realized that was exactly why they'd been gathered.

"Look—they've decided—" Drawing a long breath, his fingers paling even further, Robards glared over their heads. "There's not an easy way to say this, so _please_ do your best not to hex the messenger. Late last night, the Wizengamot gathered and spoke with Ministry officials. In a vote, they've decided to implement something they're calling a marriage incentive."

Ron's head whipped toward him and Harry, who stood on the other side of him. "What does that mean?" he hissed.

Standing without thinking, it was all he could do to watch confusion ripple through the room.

Robards didn't tell them everything, and it stood to reason he was under instructions from the Minister not to. Still, he'd told them enough. With a sideways glance toward either of the men beside him, Draco knew it was going to be a long day.

* * *

As the minutes counted down to nine o'clock, Draco stood in the line of aurors behind Minister Shacklebolt. With his hands clasped in front of him, he swept a glance over the crowd, eyes narrowing on the bustling reporters trying to force their way to the front. Right about now, he wasn't envious of the aurors standing between the crowd and the podium they'd dragged outside.

Within minutes, the crowd would try to push their way forward.

He rolled his head to the side and flexed his fingers.

Even though he ought to have paid attention to the announcement, it passed in a blur. Too preoccupied with the faces that quickly turned red, he only caught the highlights.

The incentive—which was a polite way of saying _this is going to be a law, but since we're giving you the choice, that makes it okay_ —would last for four months. In the interim, the public between the ages of twenty and forty could either marry someone of their own choosing, or subject themselves to a Ministry mandated match at the deadline.

That morning, Boot had muttered that at least Draco already had a pretty witch for his fianceé. He'd be spared from the law, unlike the rest of them. The words echoed in his head, and Draco's fingers tightened where they were threaded together. _Spared. Yeah, that's the word I'd use._

There was some sort of charm, Shacklebolt attempted to reassure everyone, which meant all matches would be… _compatible_. Draco might have believed the man—though he doubted it—if the Minister hadn't stumbled at the end of the sentence.

Draco knew nothing about the charm, but there was little doubt all of the details would find their way into the Daily Prophet soon enough. _What the fuck does that even mean?_ he'd hissed under his breath that morning. _A compatibility charm?_

There was the reassurance that all matches would come with a protective measure. Spouses wouldn't be able to harm each other, he promised, but it didn't go far when it came to appeasing an angry mob.

The point was clear: procreation.

What a dystopian concept. Here they were, years after the fall of the Dark Lord—and his Dark Mark still itched under his sleeve at the thought—and citizens were scared. Right now, they were angry, but the fear would settle in soon enough.

From waking to his partner's Patronus looming over him to now, it had been a bad day. Running on fumes, he could see his fellow aurors already running ragged. Some of them anyway—they had kept the junior bunch behind them. A last resort as it were. Draco sincerely doubted anyone was going to charge at Harry bloody Potter, who was luckily next to him.

A short, curly-headed witch pushed her glasses up her nose and scribbled across her notepad. "Minister! Do you think this is the best way? It's—" The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the crowd.

"Yes," came the reply.

Potter elbowed him, looking from him to Ron. "Here it comes. You ready?"

Wrapping his fingers around his wand, Draco unclenched his jaw.

The crowd rushed and the gate toppled over, not that it offered a worthwhile barrier anyway. Defensive spells bounced around, and he spotted the Minister being led away from the corner of his eye.

"Stop!" Draco caught the arm of a wizard who tried to push past him. "Look, you don't want to do that, mate."

He spat on Draco. "Not your fucking mate."

Steering him backwards, Draco's day went from bad to worse. "Attacking an auror is only going to land you in a holding cell. Unless you want that, I'd leave if I were you." He rustled free of Draco's grip.

"Malfoy, on your left!" Harry shouted.

The impact of a fist knocked him forward a step before he caught himself, and tightened his grip on his wand. Straightening, Draco glanced over his shoulder to find his former schoolmate staring at him. "McLaggen," he snarled.

Apparently, the bad day had only just gotten started.

* * *

Aside from a riot that had broken out during his first year in the DMLE—when he'd been stuck with all the shite assignments based on his last name alone—it had been the worst day he'd come up against yet. With a tired wave, more similar to throwing his hand in the air, Draco dragged himself towards the row of Floos in the atrium.

"No." He'd have recognized Granger's voice anywhere, especially when it sounded like that. Glancing up, Draco didn't look directly at her lest she feel his eyes on her. "I'm not going to—" Granger poked her finger into Saul Croaker's sternum _hard_.

He muttered something, but with the distance, Draco couldn't make out the words.

Though the thought crossed his mind to interrupt them, Draco didn't break his stride. Even if he weren't exhausted, Granger could handle her own. And if she wanted to yell at the head of her department in the middle of the ministry, then that was her business. Besides, he'd learned more than once that anyone she targeted probably deserved it.

Still, it made him wonder.

He grabbed a handful of green powder, and hurled it at his feet as he called out for his flat. With any luck—and not because he couldn't stand the thought of seeing her—Astoria would be visiting her sister. Maybe he would be able to get some sleep before the worst of the public reaction hit.

Sure, today had been hellacious, and _sure_ , his temple still ached from the sucker punch Cormac McLaggen had landed. But there would be protests organized tonight, and he had a feeling everything would be much worse in the morning.

The moment he stepped out of his fireplace and spotted his parents on the sofa, he knew he wasn't going to get any sleep. "Mother, Father," he greeted tightly. "To what do I owe this surprise?"

Astoria rose from her seat, smoothing her dress before she stepped behind him to take his coat. The domesticity left a bad taste in his mouth. God, he needed to stop dragging his feet, and while being on the cusp of a decision hadn't been much, it had been something before the world imploded.

One way or another, he'd have to be married in four months, and now that the curtain had been ripped away in his head, Draco could almost taste the words: _I don't want a wife._

"We have questions." Tori folded his uniform jacket and laid it over the chair. Still, he caught the way she turned to tell a house elf, only to be reminded, once again, that they didn't have one. "I'm hoping you might have answers."

Draco collapsed into the nearest chair and rubbed his temple, which brought the ache flaring back to life. "I know about as much as the public does, currently. Fuck, you might know more than me."

Narcissa shifted at the crass language. "I think the main question all of us has is—"

"Are they going to end our engagement?" She tried to keep busy by fidgeting with a loose string of her dress—which must have unraveled by her wandering hands over the day—but failed. "When I heard the news, I was with the caterer, and—" She swallowed a weak sound. "I was told it might be best for us to wait on issuing a final payment, just in case."

In a move Draco had inherited, Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're not going to dissolve previously registered engagements, and the two of you have been registered for months. You don't have to worry about that."

 _I'm still a coward then_. It would have been easier if the engagement was dissolved, but it wouldn't have done anyway. The only way out would be admitting the truth.

He was a bastard. Astoria didn't deserve this.

"At most," Lucius took his wife's hand. "The Ministry will require both of you to have the charm performed, but that won't be a problem."

To Astoria, who chose not to look any deeper, it meant there would be little doubt that they were compatible.

However, Draco caught the meaning and the look in his father's eyes. Anything could be bought, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time a Malfoy had bribed the Ministry.

He wanted nothing to do with it.

"So, there's no need to be worried, Astoria. We'll take care of it." Lucius nodded towards them.

Right, they would take care of it.

* * *

His father asked him whether he'd come to a decision when Astoria announced she planned to stay with Daphne for the night. "It's obvious neither of you are getting on." Lucius held the glass of firewhisky, and the ice knocked against the sides.

Bracing his elbows against the table, Draco didn't reply. What could he say?

"Would you like to hear my opinion?"

"You're going to tell me to marry her whether I want to or not." Draco sighed. "It's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it?"

Another drink, quickly followed by the tilt of Lucius' mouth. "I would have said that if you were an adult ten years ago, but the world has changed now. I admit I've not changed as much as your mother has, but I like to believe it's made a difference."

Draco didn't follow.

"Why did you propose to Astoria?"

That night, in a restaurant Blaise had recently opened, felt so far away now that he got tunnel vision just thinking about it. He'd dropped to one knee—Draco could remember that part—and Astoria had cried. His heart had given a useless thump rather than quickening when she flung her arms around him.

It had been wrong.

With his father still staring at him, expecting an answer, Draco sighed again. "I don't know."

"You've let this get too far." Another drink. Another clink of ice against the glass. "You look like you need a drink, Draco. Perhaps the entire bottle?"

He laughed miserably. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, the truth of all of this is that one way or another, you'll be married soon. Astoria is a lovely young woman, but she makes you unhappy. That's no way to spend the rest of your life."

That was not what he'd been expecting.

 _It's just how things are done, Potter_.

"Do you _want_ to marry her?"

 _No._ Draco gulped and shook his head. "I got swept up in the fact that it's always been this way. Even as a child, I can remember being told that I would be married by this point—before this even—and I didn't know what I was doing with my life, so I…"

He'd fucked up.

Tremendously.

"She doesn't deserve this."

Lucius agreed. "It'll be messy, but I doubt Astoria was happy with you either. Though, that may be a more recent development."

His nose wrinkled at the insinuation.

"You've acted like a terrible prat, Draco." Lucius chuckled, draining the rest of his glass. "I have to ask if there's anyone that you want to marry."

"And if there is?" Draco laughed. "What are you going to do, fetch her?"

His father's expression remained serious. "Call it a theory, Draco. Just answer the question. Unlike you, I have a woman who actually enjoys my company waiting at home for me." The smirk gave too much away.

"That's my _mother_ you're talking about." Draco shuddered. "And no, there's no one."

The chair creaked as Lucius pushed it back into place after standing. "I'd do nearly anything for you, but breaking off your engagement is not one of them. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded. "I'll speak with Astoria by the end of the week. Sooner than that if we can get in the same room." It wouldn't be an easy task, but Weasley would take his patrols if he asked.

Might hold it over his head and taunt that Draco owed him a favor, but he'd still do it.

"See that you do." Lucius squeezed his shoulder.

He waited for the sound of flames crackling before sinking into his seat. Draco heard a piece of paper crinkle in his pocket and pulled it out.

Granger's invitation. He'd forgotten all about it. Her name was written in wispy cursive that belonged to his mother, but it was wrinkled from his pockets since it'd been carried around. The edge was bent, and he flattened it against the table.

At least he wouldn't have to give her the bloody thing now, Draco supposed, but then he considered why he hadn't done so in the first place. Maybe it was because he was partially a coward, but he knew that wasn't the truth.

He'd wanted an excuse to see her again, just to check in on her, he promised himself. Granger had been sobbing openly in her office, after all, and that wasn't like her. She compartmentalized so well that it almost frightened him. For anything to cause a crack in her cool exterior—

His blood ran cold.

" _It's my fault."_

" _I can't talk about it."_

" _I'd talk about this if I could, even if it was with you, but I've taken an oath as an Unspeakable."_

Draco drew a sharp breath and stared at her name again. All of this— _all of it—_ was due to declining birth rates. It was exactly the sort of project that would have been handed off to an Unspeakable. And statistics? There was no one better than her.

She'd been in the middle of a heated argument with Saul Croaker, the head of the Department of Mysteries.

He crunched the invitation in his hand, suddenly wide awake.

It was absurd to worry about her, but if he was _right_ , she wouldn't be able to live with it. The guilt would eat her alive. Even if he was wrong, the thought of her being forced into a marriage she didn't want left him feeling hollow.

Potter and Weasley would rally around her. One of them would probably offer to marry her—he gritted his teeth—to spare her from the incentive. He'd given up the right to worry about her when he left her crying at the top of the astronomy tower at eighteen.

He ought to just go to sleep, forget about Granger, but for all he tried—and he fucking _tried_ —Draco couldn't.

She'd dig her feet in until she was forcibly paired with someone else. Maybe they couldn't physically hurt her—whoever it was—but the point of the ruling was to _procreate._

He Apparated from the inside of his flat without a second thought, the invitation still crushed in his hand.

* * *

As far as bad ideas went, this was probably the worst one he'd ever had—there had been some winners there, too. But with the sky opening up overhead, and lightning jetting in ragged jerks through the darkness, Draco climbed the iron stairs of the building. Tightening his coat around him, he kept his head down. If anyone saw him, the hair would give him away.

He didn't have anything to hide, Draco reassured himself, but he tugged the hood over his head anyway.

By the time he'd stepped in front of her door, and raised his hand to rap his knuckles against it, Draco had lost every ounce of nerve that had pushed him forward. Soft light pressed against the curtains that hung in the window, and he caught sight of her cat's tail swishing in the window. Crooks twisted around, peeking at him curiously.

Then he meowed.

 _Fuck_.

"Crooks, what is it? Is someone there?"

The irritating little beast's squished nose twitched and he meowed again.

The door opened before he could Apparate. Draco froze as a strangled noise came from his throat and he just stared at her.

Her face was several shades paler, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Puffy and red, it was clear she'd been crying for a while. _Probably since she left the Ministry._

"What are you doing here?" No acid. Granger tilted her head to the side, adjusting her shorts where they hung at a respectable length. "Malfoy?"

Crookshanks weaved between her legs and trotted onto the landing before pushing his head against Draco's ankle.

"He still likes you, apparently." Her voice cracked, and he wished he hadn't noticed it. Thing was, that had never been an option when it came to her. "You know, you're supposed to knock on the door, not linger outside like a creep."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"I could call an auror if I wanted." She sniffed dramatically, and it felt like he'd been dropped into a different life.

Because she would never tease him like this in this one. "Well, you've got an auror right here if there _is_ a creep, but I don't see one."

When she laughed, Draco didn't even try to stop his smile, not that he could have anyway. "Shall I get you a mirror so you can check again?"

Merlin, he'd forgotten how easy it was to talk to her.

Remembering came effortlessly, and the fact that it felt like taking a breath after being under water should have terrified him. And it did. Just not enough to make him leave.

"Malfoy." She scooped Crooks up and stepped backwards. "Do you have any idea what time it is? What are you doing here?"

Without fumbling—and only barely—Draco pulled the invitation from his pocket. "I was supposed to give you this earlier. With everything"—a dark look flashed over her face—"that happened today, I didn't get the chance." He pressed it into her hands, pulling away just as soon as he could without drawing attention to himself.

Her lips—pale and pretty, which shouldn't have mattered—pressed into a thin line. "You mean to tell me that you made a trip to my flat at midnight _just_ to give me an invitation for your wedding?"

Well, when she put it like that, it just sounded ridiculous.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Granger tracked the movement.

"That's your tell." She leaned against the door frame. "Whenever you're lying, you do that. Always have."

Draco didn't know what to say.

She swallowed. "This isn't why you're here, Malfoy. Please don't lie to me either."

"No, I suppose it's not why." Draco mulled over her words again, knowing that he _had_ lied to her, and she probably didn't realize just how far the lies had gone.

Granger heaved a sigh and set Crooks on the table as she stepped to the side. "I don't want to stand on the doorstep all night. If you want to talk to me, then…" She waved at the door. "Just close it behind you."

Without a second thought, Draco crossed the threshold and kicked it shut behind him before locking it. "I couldn't sleep because I think I know why you were crying."

Her shoulders tensed, and Draco wondered if she would decide to kick him out instead. "And that couldn't wait until tomorrow? Did you ever think about how it would look if you were caught coming to my flat in the middle of the night? Shouldn't you be home in bed with your fiancé?"

Was it just him or did she sound bitter? Only slightly.

It would have been best to admit that there wasn't going to be a wedding, but he'd already used the excuse of delivering the invitation. Content to look anywhere that wasn't her, Draco's eyes landed on a jumper draped over a chair and his stomach sank.

"He's not here." Granger snorted. "Viktor is away training."

He nearly commented that she still had a thing for quidditch players, despite hating the sport, but clamped his mouth shut before he could. "The marriage incentive…" Draco bit the inside of his cheek, watching as she squeezed her eyes shut. "They came to you, didn't they?"

Granger sat at the end of the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her while dragging the sleeves of her loose sweater down over her knuckles. With her hair tied back, it bared her shoulders and the curve of her neck. "It's called Project Aphrodite."

That alone was more information than he'd expected her to divulge. His face must have given it away.

"They can't press charges for any breaks in my oath when it's only a matter of time before the media catches wind of it. Croaker said the harassment I'll receive from the public is better than they could do. He said I should at least be able to defend myself."

Draco perched on the edge of her coffee table, his hands curled into fists. "That's ridiculous."

She shrugged. "Last year, I was given an assignment to investigate why birth rates have dropped since the end of the war. By the time it was given to me, it had already been named, and within a month, I found a starting point." Shifting in her seat, she rubbed her temples. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. Honestly, I don't know why I didn't tell you to go away already."

"I'm a good listener, you know."

"Yeah—" Her voice was tight. "I know." The heavy silence that followed was thankfully broken when she continued. "There's an isolated, magical community off the coast of Japan that hasn't produced a squib in centuries. It's not on any maps that I've found, and finding it at all was purely luck."

Draco didn't ask how she'd found it, though he was awfully curious.

"There is a spell used to measure magical compatibility, but that's not all it takes into account. Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to work my way to the end. I took a trip in December to visit the village after corresponding with them, and I had just gotten to read the original spells—" Her nails bit into the armrest, and there were indentions in the leather when she pulled away. Two weeks ago, it was ripped off my desk and thrown in front of the Wizengamot."

No wonder she'd been so upset.

Another swallow. Another moment where she squeezed her eyes shut, but Draco could see tears forming. "I didn't believe they would go through with it. I tried to stop it, but I never thought that it would pass."

"It's not your fault."

"I sat behind my best and did nothing. And for what? I spent most of my youth fighting for something, and when I applied for this position, I—"

He cleared his throat. "You said you intended to do some good in the world. I remember." Draco reached for her, and he'd barely brushed a thumb across her fingers before she yanked her hand back.

God, she _flinched_.

"Granger—" _I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you. I shouldn't have spoken so easily with you. I shouldn't remember all these things, but I do._

"I think you should go home to your fiancé," Granger bit out, and both sides of her tone were sharp enough to impale himself. "I don't need your comfort."

_Maybe not, but I want to give it._

Draco snapped his mouth shut before he said something that couldn't easily be taken back. "Goodnight, Granger."

She shut the door, and he'd expected to hear the lock flip into place, but instead he heard, "Goodnight, Draco."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to dreamsofdramione for a killer beta job, and to mcal and feelingofthesea for pre-reading! I hope to hear from you what you think, and if you like, you're welcome in my ask box on tumblr too at mrsren96. Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's update is brought to you in the middle of my rewatch binge session of Bleach. Any mistakes that have slipped through the cracks are purely my own.

Sleep eluded Draco through the rest of the night, and he never caught up. Luckily, Astoria hadn't returned to the flat by the time he left—he hadn't expected her to. Still swaying on his feet, he climbed into the fireplace and waited for the world to spin.

The second he stepped into the Ministry, boots squeaking against the tile, he was face to face with Potter and Weasley.

He didn't like the look on his partner's face. Granted, Draco had only gotten _that_ look on a handful of occasions. Sometimes when a mission went south, or when his mouth opened before his filter kicked into place.

The one that stood out the most, though, was the day that Robards had assigned them as partners. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that every bloody witch or wizard that worked in the building knew about it.

Draco had been civil, offering his hand to shake while stating they could get along well enough. Potter, on the other hand, had punched him. Just remembering, Draco raised his hand to his nose.

" _What the fuck is wrong with you?"_

" _That's eight years overdue, mate."_

It'd been about Granger and the night in the Astronomy Tower.

"You, me—" Potter snarled.

"And me!"

"Lift. Now." He nodded towards Ron.

It was about Granger, Draco already knew as he was steered into the lift. Someone called out for them to hold the lift, but none of them moved to hit the button. As it began a slow ascent, Harry smashed the emergency stop, and pinned him with a glare.

Draco didn't say anything.

"Don't do this." Potter must have reworked his sentence over a dozen times in his head. "Hermione called us last night after you left. She was rattled."

Digging his fingers into his thigh, still hidden in his pocket, Draco grimaced. "I didn't hurt her if that's what you're accusing me of."

"No," Ron said. "I think we all know you wouldn't hurt her, not again anyway."

Draco clenched his jaw. "Careful."

Harry didn't listen, but that wasn't really a surprise. "Why were you there?"

"I caught her crying in her office last week. She was fucking catatonic, alright? It worried me." The words were his and he knew it, but saying them out loud blew everything wide open. He'd been able to shove it down over the years, never dwelling on it for too long, but now— _fuck_. "Is that what you want to hear? I can't help that I bloody care about her."

There was a wheeze behind him, and Potter rubbed his temple. "You don't get to do that."

"Well, apparently I am. What a fucking surprise, I don't listen to you." If he didn't get out of the lift, he was going to Apparate, damn the wards. At least if he splinched himself, he'd be away from this line of questions that he didn't want to answer.

"We know you never stopped caring," Ron cut in, his voice tight. Made sense, even after finding out about their relationship—which had been _after_ he dumped Hermione fucking Granger—he'd been overly protective.

Like an older brother.

That she used to snog.

Draco snorted, and immediately knew it was a bad move when Ron's brows shot into his hairline.

"In case you've missed this fact, I have both of my hands."

In training, he'd always bested Weasley, but it wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to test in an old lift that constantly felt like it might fall apart.

And the anger that barely simmered might just give the man an edge that Draco didn't want to cut himself on.

"The point is that you are engaged, and you don't get to drop in on 'Mione in the middle of the night. Not because you're goddamn _worried_ about her."

Draco felt the colour drain from his face. "You think I went there so I could try to shag her?"

"I didn't say that."

Potter exhaled. "Guys—"

"You didn't have to. I fucked up with her, I'm well aware of that. No need to remind me."

Ron scoffed. "Apparently, you need to be reminded. Spare me the look, Malfoy. You're not the one who had to console her after you left."

_I would have done it if she hadn't shoved me away._

While he didn't know exactly what Weasley read from the slight pinch in his features, Draco knew he hadn't liked what he'd seen. "I didn't mean to upset her. Once I realized why she left the Department of Mysteries, I thought about how upset she'd be." More like how stubborn she was—and he was right—and how she wouldn't reach out for help.

The bell dinged overhead, signalling that others were waiting.

"Why show up? What about Astoria?" Harry crossed his arms. "Come on, you had to know we were going to ask."

"Believe it or not, Granger was my best mate before she was ever my girlfriend." There it was, the outburst that had been boiling without him noticing. "I know her. I know what she's like, alright? I just—"

Ron nodded, squeezing his shoulder. "Missed her?"

It cut through him, and the lift began to crawl upward again when Potter pulled his hand back. Yeah, he'd missed her, and he'd done a good enough job ignoring that up until now.

"If you want to repair that relationship—and if you even try to step over the line of friendship without permission from her—I'll help you." Weasley said it all in one breath. "If you ever tell her I said this, she'll unleash those fucking birds on me again, but I'm pretty sure she misses you, too. Probably more than she lets on, but it's buried."

The hope that maybe it was true twisted viciously in his chest. "I was going to tell you before the interrogation that I'm going to end my engagement. Not for whatever is currently going through that pig-headed brain of yours. Not a word about it."

When the lift doors slid open, Weasley made a show about all the troubles he had with the thing every day, airing complaints that it needed to be replaced.

From the corner of the DMLE, just outside the Head Auror's office, Robards caught his eye. The man didn't look like he believed them at all.

Typical.

* * *

Outside the Ministry, aurors patrolled the perimeter to keep the organized protests from rolling into full-scale riots. Fortunate enough not to be tasked with that, Draco almost regretted dodging the assignment as he sat behind his desk. Even though it came as no surprise, neither Harry nor Ron had completed their last round of reports.

Potter might be his partner, but Weasley continually rotated with them since his own partners tended not to last. _Hard to see why_ , he grumbled internally while sifting through the disorganized mess. The man was a good auror in the field, but fuck if his paperwork had ever improved.

A knock sounded against the door before Bea poked her head in. "Auror Malfoy, your father sent this." She crossed the room and slid a parcel wrapped in brown paper onto his desk. "He said it was urgent, and that you might like to see it. Also, he mentioned that you ought to show it to Aurors Potter and Weasley."

His brows knitted together and his glasses slid down his nose. "Is my father still here?"

"No, sir. Last I saw him, he was talking to Head Auror Robards, but I believe he's left already."

He nodded. "Thank you. Shut the door behind you?" Draco leaned back in his chair and waited for the sound of the door before tearing open the package. It was _The Daily Prophet_ , but the date was for the next day.

The moment he pulled it out, his breath lodged in his throat. It was a picture of Granger, the same photograph that was on a chocolate frog card.

He skimmed the text, clenching his jaw until it ached.

_According to an inside source inside the Ministry, Hermione Granger developed the compatibility charm…_

What had Weasley said? That he didn't get to care anymore?

No, it was that he didn't get to drop in uninvited.

Well, too fucking bad.

* * *

Barely dodging Potter was lucky. He had just stepped out of the lift as Draco neared it. Considering the conversation this morning—which had been odd, when he stopped to think about it—Draco had severe doubts the man would appreciate his actions regardless of how well-meaning they were.

It wasn't only that he was worried about Granger, he maintained. Though he was. Just thinking about the photograph of her—she'd been smiling for it, her nose crinkling as she laughed—made his stomach twist that much more, and while he _was_ worried, he also knew that she could possibly be in danger.

Croaker had told her the reaction of the public would be more than what the Ministry could do to her for breaking her silence on the entire thing, and as someone who had been subjected to rabid mobs that had too much to say, Draco's stomach sank even lower. The rational thing would be to report it to Potter.

Then to Robards.

Still, he shoved his way past the crowd that poured out of the lift, and stepped inside, ignoring the slight shake it gave. Metal grates slid together before the doors closed over them, and he jammed the button down. He probably only had a few minutes of a start on Potter before he spotted _The Daily Prophet_ on his desk, and landed outside Granger's flat.

He hurried out of the lift, through the atrium, and stepped into the public Floo. It was common knowledge that you couldn't apparate into—or out of—the Ministry for security reasons, but that had never irritated him more than it did then. Draco stepped out of his own fireplace, and spotted Astoria on the sofa.

She didn't get the chance to get a word out before he curled his fingers around his wand and vanished from the spot.

Granger's flat wasn't far from where he landed. The ground was solid beneath him when Draco cast a glance in both directions. There weren't any crowds.

Seeing that should have been enough of a reassurance for him to leave. Clearly, Granger wasn't in any trouble, but he put one foot in front of the other anyway, determined to see her with his own eyes. Climbing the steps two at a time, Draco had had a feeling that this was a bad idea.

A terrible one, honestly, but it wasn't as if he'd had very many good ideas lately.

Even when he did see Granger, it was solely for his benefit. That was hardly fair considering how unhappy she'd be to see him.

They had talked last night, though, and it had been just like before. Maybe he didn't want to remember how easy it was to talk to her after burying it so deeply, but there were some things that couldn't be forgotten.

He knocked on the door once, but there was no answer.

Then twice, but it was the same.

By the third time—the loudest of them—Draco wondered if she was home, intentionally ignoring him. He heard some noise behind him and turned around.

"What are you doing here?" Granger stared at him over an armload of groceries, tilting her head to the side. "You don't know how to stay away, do you?"

Draco was pretty sure she'd said the exact same sentence in what felt like a lifetime ago, under extremely different—more favorable—circumstances. "I get that you're irritated—"

"That's the word I would use." Her brows lifted. "Why are you here again? Haven't I already told you enough?"

_Not nearly._

"Actually…" Draco cleared his throat. "I'm here to check on you. I won't ask you any questions."

She set her bags beside her door and turned to him. "Check on me? I don't know why, I'm not in the mood to talk about my," she sighed,"my feelings again."

"Especially not with me." Draco clenched his jaw. "I know."

"With anyone." She turned her keys over in her hands. "It's not all about you. If I were going to talk about this, it'd probably be with you given that you already know and I don't want to explain it to anyone else. _However,_ " her voice hardened, and he suspected the shift in her tone had everything to do with his smirk. "I don't need anyone to check on me."

Granger couldn't possibly know yet then. It was only a matter of time. Advance copies were leaked so often, it was impossible to keep headlines like this concealed for long.

It left him with two options: he could tell her why he was there or he could leave without giving her a heads up— _like a coward._

He'd had enough of acting like a coward.

Draco shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned back on his heels. "Granger, I'm not here because of what you confided in me. While I am worried about that, this is…" Technically it _was_ about the story she had shared with him.

"Are Harry and Ron okay?"

"What? Yes. They're fine. I would have told you immediately if it were that."

Granger rested her knuckles under her chin. "Then you're afraid to tell me."

His mouth was dry and swallowing only made it worse. "I'm not afraid."

"Then you're trying to spare my feelings." Her hands fell to her sides. "Malfoy, just spit it out. The sooner you do, the sooner you can leave."

"The Ministry publically named you as the one who created the charm."

Her face crumbled, and he wanted to pull her into him. "Oh."

It would be so easy to slip an arm around her waist, and tuck her head under his chin while he rubbed her back. "I saw the copy that will run tomorrow, and knew it wouldn't be long before protesters camped outside your flat."

"I knew this would happen." Granger shrugged, but he could see the way her eyes began to water. "It was nice of you to check in, but really, it's—"

Draco reached for her, and his fingers curled around her elbow when she didn't step away from him. "That doesn't make it any easier to hear. I'm sorry."

She wouldn't meet his eyes when she nodded. Granger kept her gaze over his shoulder. "I am, too. Thank you for telling me."

"Do you have any idea what you'll do now?" It wasn't his business, and Granger probably wouldn't give him a response. "You and Krum…?"

 _That_ earned him a sharp laugh. "No." She shook her head. "I don't want to marry Viktor. I don't want to marry anyone."

An agreement was on the tip of his tongue, but he kept that to himself. While he doubted Granger would let that information slip anyway, the next person he needed to admit this to had to be Astoria.

"If they want to see me married, they'll have to match me when the deadline comes."

It was exactly what he'd expected, and it scared the shite out of him. "One of your friends will step up." Draco heard the words as they left his mouth, and watched the corner of her lips twitch into a smile. "Potter wouldn't let you be paired with someone you didn't want. Neither would Weasley."

"Ron's been seeing someone for several months now. He hasn't told me who the witch is, but I suspect we'll know soon enough."

"You think he'll marry her?"

"If she says yes." Granger bent down to pick up her bags, and glanced back at him. "Thank you for coming by. I realize it probably wasn't ideal for you."

The soles of his boots scraped against the cement. "That's not true."

She froze in the doorway, one foot already inside as the door swung open.

"Both of your friends would have my head if they knew I'd come here again. Probably will—especially Weasley—when they find out. Truth is, I wanted to see you—to know if you were okay—because I thought of you crying again makes my blood boil."

Pretty brown eyes widened, and her fingers curled around the trim of the door. Her lips parted, and his name passed them in a quiet rush.

He stepped backward, holding the back of his neck before remembering what she had said about it being a tell. "And I don't know what that means, Granger."

"Yes, you do."

Draco squared his shoulders. "There's no love lost between you and I." _Except, maybe, that's only on your side._ "But I'm not sorry I came here."

_But I'm sorry for everything else._

"We're adults." She swallowed. "All of that was a long time ago. If you're worried out of pity, spare me, Malfoy."

Somehow, Draco was certain Granger knew that wasn't the case and she'd only shut the door to get out of an even more difficult conversation.

Even if it had continued, he had no idea what he could have said.

* * *

At the end of the day, Harry caught him in the room they shared as an office. "You went to her flat again."

Draco nodded, his lips pressing together as he slid his report into the file before stowing it away in his desk. "That took you long enough. I figured you would have cornered me immediately after you spoke to her."

"I haven't talked to her." Harry dropped into the chair opposite him. "I saw that cover though, and when I fire called her, there was no answer."

"She probably wanted to be alone."

"Right." His partner dug his fingers into the arm rests as he stood. "Since you probably bollocksed it up, I'm going to go check on her."

"Good luck. Where are the reports you finished?" The door swung shut, but it didn't do much to hide the loud laugh from the other side. " _Potter!"_

* * *

He arrived home much later than normal thanks to the extra paperwork he'd had to complete, and apologized to Astoria immediately. "I had to get somewhere in a hurry and I couldn't apparate."

"Where were you going? Obviously, it wasn't for work."

 _Fuck_. "I had to check on a friend."

Astoria didn't believe him.

He wouldn't have believed him either. "I realize that's vague."

"Is this friend a witch?" Her fingers tightened on the cup in her hands. "Surely, it's someone I know."

"Not well," Draco answered. "Yes, it's a witch, but before you accuse me of anything, she's in danger. Technically, it will be a concern for the DMLE. I just happened to learn about the issue before anyone else, that's all."

"Do you want to marry me?"

His stomach dropped. While he hadn't figured out a good way to admit that yet, Draco hadn't expected her to come out and ask him directly.

Astoria squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled. "You're not happy, and neither am I." Her thumb brushed against the rim of her cup. "I think we _could_ be though… If we wanted."

_Malfoy, just spit it out._

"No, I don't want to marry you," Draco said all at once, without a breath, without trying to soothe the blow because doing so would make it harder than it needed to be. "I'm so sorry."

The cup shattered as it slipped from her hands, and tumbled off the dining room table. "If you don't marry me, who will you marry?" Astoria seemed too calm, she didn't even look at the pieces of the cup, or the tea that rolled across the floor.

"I don't know."

"You would rather marry a stranger than me? We have a relationship."

"I think we both know it's not much of one."

Her teeth cut into her bottom lip. "Who will I marry? _Don't_ look at me that way. I will not marry you just to avoid this. I can see when I'm not wanted, Draco."

His chest ached. "I'm so sorry. It wasn't my intention to let it go so far, and I hoped that I would…"

Astoria ripped the ring off her finger and threw it at him. "I'll arrange for my belongings to be moved out."

Draco was part way through a bumbling apology that wasn't even good enough—and it would never be good enough—when a Patronus burst into the room.

"Maybe you could marry your auror credentials." Astoria shot to her feet. "Seeing as they come before anything else!"

Even before the stag spoke, an overwhelming sense of dread swept over him. " _Hermione's gone. She fled the country."_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop, we're getting into the thick of it now. I hope all of you are staying safe out there! If you want to talk to me, or leave me your thoughts, comments are always welcome and you can always message me on FFN or visit me on tumblr at mrsren!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight cliff hanger last week! I'm doing my best not to include them in this project. Our characters are a bit OOC in this story, and I think that shows more in this chapter. Thanks to mcal and dreamsofdramione for all their help. All errors are my own.

* * *

He found Potter in his flat, pacing the length of the sitting room while digging his fingers into his hair. "I haven't called Ron."

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets. "No?"

"I know where she is, and I trust Ron with my life, but I think it might be better if we go after her before anyone else notices she's gone." Reasonable. His hair sticking up and Harry's eyes were still wide with panic. "Was anyone with you?"

"Astoria." He nodded. "Given the conversation we were having, I won't be surprised if she..." Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, suffice to say she's not particularly happy with me right now."

Light filtered through the window, stretching across the worn sofa, and putting the flecks of dust in the air on full display. Harry kicked the edge of the recliner and clenched his jaw. "Not that it's new for her to be upset with you—I mean, have you ever met yourself—but what is it now?"

Bristling at the snide comment, Draco chose to ignore it. "She asked me if I wanted to marry her."

His partner made a ridiculous squawking sound.

"Are you alright?"

"You can't just drop that sort of news!" Harry spluttered. "What did you tell her? Did you—"

"Yes."

Harry stared at him. "You told her you didn't want to marry her. Just want to be clear because you've found a way out of this conversation multiple times already."

"Thanks," Draco remarked dryly, squaring his shoulders. "I told her I didn't want to marry her. Tori said she'd have her things moved out, and that's about as far as we got before your Patronus burst into the room. Then she told me to marry my auror credentials."

Harry sniggered.

"Shouldn't we be finding Granger instead of discussing me?" His knee bumped the sofa. "Do you have any idea where she would have gone?"

Digging his fingers into his hair, Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know exactly where she went."

Draco almost choked. "Maybe lead with _that_ next time!"

* * *

To arrange a portkey out of the country, they had gone through Lucius Malfoy, who had only sighed when he learned of the reason behind it at all. "Might I remind you," his father's fingers drummed against the desk, "that part of the _generous_ probation the Ministry gave me is not partaking in any unsavory acts?"

Sweat formed on Potter's brow.

Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy, I know, but this is—"

"Important, hmm? What would you be willing to bargain for it?"

He'd only indulge his father's fun for a few more moments before cutting it short. They _did_ have somewhere to be after all.

Harry's voice was strangled as he asked, "Bargain? You just say you were meant to be involved in—"

"Oh, dear. Are you here to tell me that my son is about to commit a crime? Mr Potter, I assure you that Draco is quite capable of getting away with whatever it is. If your intentions are to help him, I might advise that you not go with him. I can assume he has no plans to leave any witnesses." The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched. "But I don't like you."

When Harry shot him a desperate look and mouthed _help_ , Draco cleared his throat.

"You've had your fun, Father."

A sharp huff filled the air. "Oh, alright. I'm sorry, Mr Potter."

"Harry is fine."

Lucius snorted. "I think not. Out with it then, tell me why and don't look at me that way. You can't expect me to hand over a portkey when there's a travel ban in place."

Draco and Harry looked at each other. "Well—"

"Hermione fled the country." Harry said it so fast it almost sounded like a single word.

"Are you out of your _mind_?"

Rising from his chair and buttoning his suit, Lucius appeared exhausted. "My son is right. After you leave here, I have no choice but to report the portkey to the DMLE, but I believe Robards will be understanding if you manage a quick return."

Clearly, Harry didn't realize what was happening.

"My probation is a gift, Mr Potter," Lucius said smoothly. "One that can be taken back at any time, and I have no choice but to report what I find." Rounding his desk, he motioned for them to take a seat. "I'll have it ready in a half hour. And Draco?" He paused at the door. "Have you taken care of what I told you to do?"

It didn't feel like it had been an hour since he'd talked to Astoria. "Yes, I have."

"Was it the outcome you hoped for?"

He nodded.

* * *

From the moment their feet left English soil to the moment they landed in Scotland, Harry had been an absolutely terrible nag. "You never told your father she was a confidential informant!"

"Oh, why don't you yell that a little louder!" Draco snapped. "I don't think the entire country heard you well enough. Perhaps it eluded you, Potter, because God knows everything else does—"

"I resent that!"

"But the key word is _confidential_." Draco trudged up the hill and came upon a view of the city. "Why would you give her a portkey anyway?"

Wind ripped past them. "Technically, I gave her a house." Harry shrugged. "It was after she graduated. Hermione was unhappy, and not that it's your fault, but she needed time. I told her that she could always come here. If she ever needed to get away, she would have this. I never thought it would come in handy like _this_."

To be perfectly fair, Draco didn't think any of them could have expected this.

"Why can't you leave her alone?"

Draco's insides turned to ice and he clenched his jaw. Still, it _was_ a fair question, even if he wasn't sure how to respond. "I don't know."

"At the pub?" Harry drew his wand and linked an arm through his partner's. "You dumped your drink on her."

"It was an oversight." He drew a breath. "I meant to throw it at Krum—not the entire ruddy tumbler—but you saw what happened."

The wind shifted as they Apparated from the top of the grassy hill, and Draco hoped he might be spared from the conversation.

He wasn't so lucky.

"Why did you want to dump firewhisky on him?"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to." Draco wiped his jacket and stared up at the sky. It was littered with stars. This wasn't a view one could see in London—the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, on the other hand, well, that was another story. "I was jealous."

Harry sighed. "There it is."

In front of them, and up a ways, there was a house settled at the top of the bluff. Draco could hear the sea rolling against the rocks below them.

He could taste the salt in the air.

"It doesn't matter. I know where Granger and I stand."

"No," Harry murmured. "I don't think you have any idea at all." He walked ahead of Draco and craned his head back. "She's not going to come back willingly."

That was exactly what Draco had feared. He'd known from the moment the news broke that she wouldn't obey quietly. Combined with that fact that she'd cut her losses and gotten out of the country, he imagined the only way to bring her back safely might be to knock her unconscious and hope like hell she didn't wake up before they got home.

But what would they be bringing her home to? She'd run for a perfectly good reason in his opinion—not that it mattered—and she could hide forever.

Or at least until the Ministry repealed the incentive, and that was _surely_ going to happen. Eventually. However, anything could happen in the meantime.

"Do you have a backup plan?"

"Yeah." Harry climbed the shallow incline. "But you're not going to like it."

Draco's brows shot into his hairline. "Then perhaps you should tell me what this disastrous plan of yours is before she puts you through a wall. And she _will_."

"No, it'll work."

Draco recognized the property as a former Black residence once they reached the winding stone path that led to the porch. He'd seen it in photographs that his mother kept bundled in a private album, and he knew it had been left to Sirius.

Who, in turn, had left it to his godson. Then, apparently, it had been given to Granger.

Harry didn't knock before he let himself in. Draco hung back for a few moments to see if any stray hexes struck his partner. When there was nothing, he stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind him.

They found Granger sitting on a kitchen island with her fingers wrapped around a bottle of booze, and he didn't even _want_ to know how old it was.

"I figured it wouldn't take you long." She tilted the bottle to her lips, draining it to the last drop.

Draco knew she couldn't stand the taste of liquor and he worked quite hard not to remember how he'd come by that information. Granger always gagged at the taste until she'd downed enough of it to forget how bloody terrible it tasted.

Draco lifted the lid of the rubbish bin and found a bottle of wine already empty, and a small bottle of Muggle whiskey.

Sweet Merlin, she was going to be so fucking sick by the time her stomach caught up to her.

"Sirius kept a healthy amount of liquor here. No surprise there. What's he doing here?" Granger jerked her chin toward Draco. "Worried about me again, Draco?"

Then she smirked.

She was trying to get under his skin, and fuck him if she wasn't going a good job of it.

"It seems I had the right idea," Draco muttered. "In case you've forgotten, you can't handle your booze for shite."

Brown eyes flickered, and he knew—fuck, he _knew_ —that he was in trouble. "I remember everything. Unlike you."

"What is that supposed to mean? Keep in mind that we have an audience, and I don't believe you're into that sort of thing."

While he knew that Granger had every intention of missing, it didn't change the fact that she threw a bottle at his _head_.

Harry's face drained of color. "Hermione, you can't run away."

She snorted. "Can't I? What are you going to do, Harry? Are you going to take me in for breaking the law? Well," Granger thrust out her arms, her wrists held together. "Do it then because I'm not coming willingly."

Draco shot him a look. "I told you this would happen. Can you really blame her?"

"If you're trying to take my side so I'll let my guard down—"

"Merlin's tits, Granger, I don't _care_ about getting your guard down—"

" _Don't you?"_

It made his blood boil. He crossed the room in three strides, slamming his palms down against the island. "If I wanted to drag you out of here, I would."

"Fat chance."

"Would you like to bet on that?"

There was that flicker in her eyes again, and her teeth cut into the plush of her bottom lip. "We used to enjoy bets, but no. I'm not so drunk that I can't—"

Draco threw his head back, his laugh loud and stark.

Just to irritate her.

"On second thought, why would I drag you out of here when I could just wait for you to inevitably hurl, probably all over _me_ —"

"You promised you would never mention that!" She gaped at him.

Ever the traitor, her best friend broke into laughter.

"Then again," Granger's eyes dulled. "You promised a lot of things."

It struck him hard, square in the middle of his chest, and Draco realized how close he was to her. He'd leaned toward her, his face not quite inches away from hers, but it was still too close. "Granger, you're terribly drunk, and I know you don't want to say these things because you're a private person. Come home. Whatever is coming next, we can figure it out."

She scoffed. "I can't go back there. It's all my fault this happened." Granger shifted, still sitting with her legs crossed, and threaded her fingers together.

"It's not your fault." Draco crouched down so he could look directly up at her. "Come on, you know none of this was your fault. Your boss asked you to do some research. You couldn't have known what he would use it for."

"It doesn't matter." Granger's voice slurred slightly. "Even if I did come home, they would arrest me for running. The Ministry would love to make an example out of me."

His fingers brushed hers, but she didn't pull away. "We aren't going to let that happen. Potter and Weasley and…" Draco swallowed. "And me. You know that, Hermione. I'd never let anything happen to you."

The truth was out there and she could do with that information whatever she wanted.

It had to count for something that he'd said it at least, right?

"Actually," Harry broke in. "There might be another option."

Granger lifted her head. "I sincerely doubt that."

"If you were to get married…"

Draco's fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

"And just who would I marry?"

"Uh," Potter rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd marry you, 'Mione. I pulled a ring from my father's vault earlier today—"

So that had been why it had taken him so long to send a message to Draco.

Hermione shook her head. Draco would have been lying if he said it didn't put him the slightest bit at ease. "Harry, imagine me naked. Right now. _With you."_

Draco choked, earning a curious look from her, and he wished _that_ image had never been put into his head.

With red dusting his cheeks, Harry nodded. "Right, yeah, so, there's another option."

"Did you make a list of my potential husbands today?"

"Malfoy."

Draco honestly wasn't sure if _this_ was the part Potter knew he wouldn't like, or if it was the fact that he had just tried to propose to the witch in front of them.

She coughed. "There's no bloody way." Granger pulled her hand away from him then. "He's an absolute prat—"

Draco waved. "Still right here."

"Not to mention _already_ engaged." Pleased with that point, her shoulders deflated a bit.

Draco beat Harry to the punch. "Actually, I'm not engaged anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

Her eyes shot open and her hands closed in his shirt as she hauled him forward. "Did you leave her so you could try to—"

"No, _no!_ " He put his hands up. "Honestly, I had no idea what Potter was planning. If I had, I would have opted to wait for you to pass out before lugging your sorry arse home."

Granger's grip loosened. "The fact remains that I would never marry you, and _don't you dare_ say that I wanted to once."

He hadn't planned to.

"Is marrying me really the worst thing you can imagine?" Draco whispered, but then he saw that they were alone. "He left us."

She padded towards the cabinet before pulling out another bottle. With her back to him—but he could still see her shoulders shaking—Granger muttered, "Go back to her. I don't want you."

It was no accident that he'd said it years earlier.

_I don't want this. I'm sorry, I don't want you._

He already knew there was no coming back from that.

"You'll be arrested."

"Then arrest me!" She fumbled with a corkscrew and didn't bother with a glass before taking long gulps.

"I'm not going back to Astoria. Contrary to how this looks, the end of my engagement had nothing to do with you." It might have been a lie, but it hadn't been so he could come here to whisk her off her feet either. "I wasn't happy."

"Good for you then. You deserve to be happy." Granger held the bottle out to him in a mock toast, and then drank enough for the both of them. "It doesn't change anything."

"Listen to me." Draco had to reason with her. He _had_ to. "It's inevitable that this gets overturned. This decision is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of, but in the meantime…"

She stared at him. "You can possibly think this is a good idea."

"It's a bloody terrible idea! I'm never going to be more than the man that broke your heart, Granger. I might make friends with your friends, but I know who I am to you. The fact of all of this is"—he waved a hand in the air—"that I can't stand the thought of someone hurting you. If I were to ever hear that you were forcibly matched with a wizard that would lay a hand on you—"

It was too far.

Too fucking far.

Pretty brown eyes widened as they began to water, and he was just as weak for her as he'd ever been.

"You would what?"

He couldn't ignore the pounding in his ears. "I'd tear them apart. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I just want the truth," Granger said quietly. "All I've ever wanted was the truth."

He slid his hands into his pockets. "Please put the bottle down. We both know that you already blew past your limit with just the wine."

She visibly swallowed. "I don't want you in my life because you'll fuck it up again."

Squeezing his eyes shut, he nodded. "I know, Hermione."

"You never even told me why and it's not that I'm still pining after you, but it's never made any sense." Slowly, Granger let him take the bottle from her hands. "I can't deal with you again. I can't—"

"Listen to me," he whispered. "It's better the devil you know than the one you don't."

"Devil?" Her laugh was miserable. "I'm not going to marry you until the deadline. With any luck, this will be over before then."

He pretended that didn't hurt.

Draco nodded, and suggested lightly that she should lay down.

When she went without another argument, he cleared the kitchen and found her sprawled on the sofa ten minutes later. Draco found a blanket in a spare bedroom, and returned to drape it over her.

Still, he couldn't help himself when he bent down to kiss her forehead. "For what it's worth, and I know it's not much, I've always regretted what I did."

Draco fell asleep in the chair across from her after setting wards in case she tried to escape.

* * *

In the morning, Draco slowly woke.

Or, at least, he'd been in the middle of slowly opening his eyes until he spotted her staring at him. Granger was perched on the edge of the coffee table. She tilted her head to the side. "You snore." As an afterthought, she added, " _Loudly."_

Draco's shoulders dropped. "I'm surprised to see you're awake before me." Pressing her lips together, she offered a cup to him, steam still wafting from the top. "And you made coffee?"

"You put wards up." Granger cut to the point. There were dark circles under her eyes, but he suspected that what was sure to be a terrible hangover really had nothing to do with it. "I didn't try to leave."

He knew that.

"I considered it. Knowing you, I probably still could have gotten out."

Honestly, that was the last thing he wanted to think about, but she was right. Bloody witch was always right. "How's your head?"

"Fine." The subtle twitch of her nose gave her away. "My head is killing me. I can't believe I drank so much. How embarrassing."

He straightened and took the mug from her outstretched hand. "Now that you're sober, we should probably talk about last night."

"Right." She fidgeted in place. "Your—well, for lack of a better word— _proposal_." Granger dug her fingers into unruly curls and stared intently at the floor. "Viktor already offered to marry me."

Coffee spewed out of his mouth, and by the grace of what luck he had, none of it landed on her. "I beg your pardon?" There was no reason—no _logical_ reason anyway—for his stomach to twist in on itself so violently, but here he was. "Krum? You said—"

"I know what I said, but at the time, I didn't see a reason why I would tell you that. In case it wasn't clear, I told him no, but now…"

Now she was thinking she ought to take the bloke's offer.

Of course she was.

"I can take you to him if you like. Though you'll both have to come to the Ministry to register an engagement, I'm sure. Especially after your attempt to run."

"This can't be what you want either," she pressed. "Unless… this could be a mutually beneficial agreement. Since you ended your own engagement, I doubt you want to search for a match either, much less be forcibly paired—"

Draco drained the cup in long swallows. "I said my piece last night. Whether you want to take me up on it is your choice, but honestly, it's probably one of the better options currently afforded to you. Or you could marry Potter."

"No!"

"Then what will it be, Granger? Either way, if we're not back in England by noon, I'm positive we'll have the brunt of the DMLE breathing down our necks, and believe me when I say it's an uncomfortable place to be."

By the way her knee bounced up and down, he knew something was coming.

"Are you sure about this?" Granger paused. "Tying yourself to me when you could probably have your pick? I don't want your pity, and I don't want your help if it's because you feel obligated—"

"I _don't_ feel obligated. My opinion hasn't changed since last night, so you can marry me and I'll pick out a ring from my vault"— _and it's had your name on it since we were broken kids who had matching pieces_ —"while we hope like hell they reverse this."

Granger's fingers curled in her hair. "And if they don't?"

"Then I'll marry you."

 _For entirely selfish reasons_.

* * *

When they landed in the Department of International Travel, Draco realized why his partner had disappeared so quickly the night before. Lucius Malfoy lingered in the corridor, and through the walls, Draco could hear the growing clamor of a crowd.

"I've delayed the reporters." His father eyed them both. "They'll push through soon, but if we act quickly, we'll be able to register your engagement and sneak you out before they get in."

Granger's breathing quickened, growing more and more shallow with each inhale. "How do you already—"

Lucius held up his hand and smiled—even to Draco, it didn't seem forced. "Your friend came to me last night after he left you to explain the situation. Given how well I know my son, I knew the likelihood of this outcome was rather high, and I took the liberty of arranging everything."

"I'm not marrying him today!" Granger clapped her hand over her mouth. "I mean to say that we're-we're waiting."

"Of course. I imagined that would be the case. The good news is that they've agreed not to arrest you immediately—as long as you comply with restrictions already decided by the Ministry."

Draco rubbed her back, he wasn't sure if the movement made her feel better or worse.

She found her voice before he did, and leaned back into his hand. "What are the restrictions?"

Appearing grim, Lucius sighed. "You have to register an engagement, and submit to the compatibility spell before they'll allow you to leave. You'll also have to live with Draco. It was tricky to navigate with the Wizengamot, but given his status as an auror, they'll allow it."

"And if I don't?"

"You'll be kept in Azkaban until you marry."

Draco snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her towards him. "We'll take the first option."

"That's a relief. If you go to the end of the corridor, there's an official waiting to perform the charm."

He froze and looked to his father. "Does Astoria know?"

With a grimace, Lucius nodded. "I told her myself when I knew there wouldn't be time before you returned. I'll warn you that she's still in the flat, but it _has_ only been a night."

Granger pulled away from him, putting one foot in front of the other as she made her way down the corridor.

Even though she hid it well, he could spot the shakiness in her knees.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this week. I'd love to hear what you think either here or on tumblr at mrsren.


	5. Chapter Five

**New chapter here, but I'm taking a break from writing for the time being. I've not been able to write in several weeks, and while I was hoping it would pass as quickly as it normally does, it hasn't and I feel better if I'm open about that. If you read this, I hope you enjoy it anyway!**

* * *

It had been easy to go through the motions, offering his arm up alongside Granger's while a nameless official appeared to be as uncomfortable as he felt. The light from the charm inching up their arms had been warm, and he'd watched the way it flickered across her face as her eyes darkened.

Granger hadn't said anything as they left the Ministry, sneaking out through a rarely used entrance. She still didn't breathe a word as she slid an arm through his and Apparated them into her flat. In fact, Draco wasn't sure she intended to say anything at all until she turned her back to him and folded her arms over her chest, wand trapped between her fingers.

Even then, he barely heard her.

"Are you happy now?" She twirled her wand and glanced over her shoulder. "Apparently we're stuck together."

He chose not to reply to that, but what he went with wasn't much better. "Were you surprised by the results of the charm?"

With her head tilted towards him slightly, hair tumbling down her back, he could see her nose wrinkle in irritation. Her lips formed a response, but nothing more than a short breath pushed its way free.

"Did the accuracy surprise you?" He knew it was probably a bad idea to press, especially when the results had been so close to a perfect match. As close as anyone could be, Draco supposed. "They told us that we're more than just compatible, Granger. Don't you have something to say about that?"

"No, I'm not surprised. I designed the bloody charm." She huffed. "Anyway, that doesn't matter. What matters right now is that I'm required to live with you, and I _know_ your ex-fiancée is probably sitting in your flat right now."

"Astoria has probably already arranged for her things to be moved, and she won't be there—"

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear enough," she hissed. "I'm _not_ going to live somewhere your ex-fiancée has. All of this is bad enough already."

"If you fucking hate it so much, why are you doing this?" She wasn't wrong, but the sharp underside of her voice cleaving down on him made it all the worse, and he realized he shouldn't have snapped.

Granger blinked. Her chest rose up and fell, and her lips parted as she blew out a breath that sent her bangs upward. "Did I really have any other choice?"

He found himself softening before he thought about why. "Are you really surprised?"

She still didn't answer him, which wasn't much of a surprise. "I'm going to start gathering my things. You should go." The Floo sounded behind him, and he spotted Weasleys stepping out of the fireplace as he looked back at her. "Don't worry. There's someone here to watch me."

* * *

Leaving her with Weasley had been the best option, Draco reminded himself as he stepped out of the fireplace. Nothing was out of place, but the flat was several degrees cooler. On the wall opposite him, he could see the outlines where multiple photographs had been once. Some of them had been of himself and Astoria, but the others had been keepsakes she'd brought with her.

Maybe she'd already left.

Draco stepped into the kitchen and found her sitting at the table, in the exact same spot where she had been the night before, but this time was even worse. He'd known exactly what she would think when he made the decision to go along with Potter's half-arsed plan. Still though, he'd expected her to escape the first moment she heard of the news.

She curled her fingers under her chin, and lifted her hair slowly. "Is she here?"

He shook his head.

"That's good." She sniffled, and wiped her nose with a handkerchief. "Is it true then? You're engaged?"

As he struggled to find something to say—something that might serve as a groveling apology as well—Draco settled with a nod. "This wasn't planned."

Astoria's eyes filled with tears. "You can't expect me, or the rest of the world, to believe that, Draco. Once the Daily Prophet reports this, everyone will see it and think you left me for her."

In the time it had taken him to travel home, Draco could honestly admit that he hadn't considered that yet. He knew Granger had, but each step had snowballed into another, and it hadn't left him with enough time to consider _all_ of the implications.

"I didn't," Draco murmured, and crouched down. He gathered her hands in his, even as they felt foreign—even after months of an engagement—and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "I'm so sorry for this. When I left here last night, I hadn't imagined how it would turn out."

"Are you going to tell me it wasn't your idea?"

 _Technically_ was on the tip of his tongue, but Draco refrained.

"You wanted to help her."

"Yeah," he breathed. "I did." The problem with the truth was that he'd never told Astoria about his previous relationship with Granger. Sure, he'd told her about a short lived relationship with a pretty witch from France after he'd been sent there on a mission, and she knew about any other _instances_ he'd been involved in—including a drunken one with her sister, which he and Theo had agreed to never speak of again—before their relationship.

But Granger?

It wasn't that she was a secret necessarily, or a witch he was ashamed to admit he had been with. Maybe ashamed for the fact that he'd left her—

But no one knew.

While they had never talked about keeping it a secret, it had gone as an unspoken agreement. Weasley had found out eventually—the two had always been close—and it had been a miracle they'd remained a secret as long as it had. Up until Potter had sucker punched him at the start of their partnership, he hadn't known for certain that he knew either.

Theo knew, though. He was the only one Draco had told directly.

Astoria swallowed hard, shot a glare his way, and stood from her seat. "My father paid a generous amount towards the wedding, and I'd rather it not be spent for a sl—"

"Tread carefully, Tori. She's not who you're angry with. That would be me."

"You can't possibly be so dense."

"I will have the money deposited into your family vault by the end of the day tomorrow."

She pushed past him,and picked up a small bag by the doorway before Apparating away.

* * *

After splashing his face with water in the loo, Draco caught Hermione at her flat.

Weasley looked him up and down in disdain when he entered before stepping to the side. "She's in a mood."

"Shocking."

" _Honestly!_ " Granger's shrill voice echoed through the flat. "I can't _believe_ you wouldn't tell me who the witch was. _Oh, we're best mates, 'Mione! Oi, I swear it—_ "

Draco snickered. "She sounds just like you."

"Shut it or I'll plant my boot so far up your arse—"

"You should have just—" Granger stomped into the room, a tower of books balanced in her arms, and they toppled over once she spotted him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Any mirth that had been on his face vanished, and his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm supposed to stay with you. It's part of the deal so they don't throw you in Azkaban."

Weasley muttered something under his breath, and he imagined it sounded suspiciously like treason.

"I'm meant to be with an auror. Ron is an auror." Granger frowned. "I suppose if you're going to be here, the least you can do is help."

"I thought you said you were going to throw his arse out if he showed his, and I quote, stupidly—"

Granger had her wand out in a fraction of second, trained on her friend, and Draco took a long step back. "If you finish that, you won't be able to _have_ kids."

"I dunno, 'Mione. Weasley genetics are pretty strong. They might override any hex you can think up." He shrugged, and didn't budge from the spot.

She arched a brow, and the corner of her mouth twitched. "Would you like to test that?"

There was a flicker of terror that crossed Weasley's face, and Draco coughed to hide his laugh. "I, uh, think I'll pass actually."

Granger laid her wand on the table before climbing down to gather her books. "Did you know about Parkinson?"

He blinked. "Pansy?"

Nodding, Granger tilted her head towards Ron. "Yeah. You remember that I mentioned he would probably propose to the witch he'd been seeing?"

Slowly, stubbornly so, the cogs began to move, and Draco's mouth dropped open as a single breath was exhaled. " _No."_

Smug as ever, Weasley folded his arms over his chest. " _Yes_ , thank you."

She continued to pack one book after another, and Draco moved to the other side of the room to gather items off another shelf. Until Granger told him to work on something else, he'd already decided not to test his luck.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she asked.

Draco grimaced. "Rather not. I think I'll stick to ignoring the fact that one of my best friends has been seeing… _him."_

"Oi, I'm your friend too!"

Looking to Hermione, Draco laughed. "Didn't you just say that in his voice?"

It was the first genuine smile she'd given him—aside from the moment she'd hurled an empty whisky bottle past his head. "I did. I can't believe he didn't tell me."

"Oh, I absolutely believe that Pansy didn't tell me."

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Idle chatter quieted, and Draco stared at him as Weasley's face grew crimson.

He raked his fingers through red hair and sighed. "What do I do if she says no?" Weasley lifted a finger and pointed to Draco. "Nope. Not asking you. Your love life is a mess."

"Maybe, but I've known Pansy since we were in nappies. How long have the two of you been together? Wait, are you counting with your _fingers_?"

"I can't keep track, mate! I've just admitted I'm going to ask the witch to marry me, so forgive me if I've got a screw loose."

"That's not why you have a screw loose." Draco ignored the sharp elbow in his side, but he glared at Hermione. "All I have to say is that if it's been since the beginning of last year, Pansy's been happier. I assumed there was someone."

Granger gripped the back of the sofa. "I don't think she'll say no, Ron."

Weasley began to pace. "How would you know? You just found out—"

"Granger's right," Draco cut in. "Pansy isn't going to say no."

"How can you—"

His hip brushed her side. "She had a bit of a crush in you in school."

Eyes widening, Ron's nod was clipped. "I think I'll go look for a ring if you think you'll be okay now?"

She sighed. "I'll be fine. Malfoy isn't going to hurt me, you know."

"Yeah, he's going to marry you, and I'm not sure which of those is worse."

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, but Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything else.

The moment the door clicked shut, Granger turned towards him with a curious look. "She really had a crush on Ron in school?"

He snorted. "Absolutely not, but he needed the encouragement. Pansy isn't going to say no; if she didn't feel that strongly, she'd have broken it off in a few months."

A smile stretched her lips. "That was almost nice of you to do."

"I have my moments."

Bracing her hip against the sofa, she avoided eye contact. "Well, um... I wanted to discuss something. Now that you're here, there's really no better time, so…"

Of course there was something to talk about. The gravity of the situation was still setting in. "I'm all yours."

She winced. "You shared a flat with Astoria, correct?"

Draco nodded.

"I don't want to live there."

" You did make that rather clear. She's moved out all of her things if—"

"No, I don't want to live anywhere that you've shared with her." Granger clenched her jaw. "It's terrible enough to feel like I've uprooted her life, but I don't want to take over a space that was previously hers."

Draco slumped against the sofa. "All right."

"That's it? No arguing?"

"Well, I don't want to live here either." He traced lines in the suede. "I think it would be in our best interest to have a fresh start. I don't particularly want to wonder if Krum—"

"Are you still jealous of him?" Granger slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, God. I didn't mean to bring that up."

Shrugging, Draco thought it might be fair. "I brought up the vomit story, so I think we're both guilty of referencing the past."

Her fingers were trembling as she brought the offending hand away from her mouth. "I don't want to bring it up. It's another life, Malfoy, and I don't want you to think I'm always going to dangle it over your head to make you feel guilty."

"It doesn't make me feel any guiltier than I already do, but the answer to your question is yes."

Pale pink lips parted as she stared at him, her cheeks hollowing as she exhaled.

"Yes, I'm still jealous of Krum and I'd rather not imagine him shagging you over the countertop."

Blush rose to her cheeks. "We didn't do that."

"Shag?"

"Um…" Red splotches grew even deeper. "We definitely did that."

She was fucking with him.

How fucking wonderful.

"Then you mean you didn't shag on the counters."

"R-ight." The word was split into two syllables, and for a moment, he saw it. Granger angled herself toward him unconsciously, and her lips parted again.

She would be the death of him.

Draco towered over her, and lowered his gaze to her lips, before lifting them back to her eyes while making sure she noticed. "Pity," he mused. "Perfectly good counters gone to waste." Allowing himself the tiniest moment to enjoy the thrill that shot down his spine, Draco broke the silence. "I'll look for a few flats that would suit us if that's okay with you. You'll have the final pick, of course."

"Of course." She sucked in a breath. "I'll finish packing here if you wouldn't mind starting in the kitchen?" Granger was slightly off kilter as he stepped around her.

Apparently, there was the slightest bit of hope.

Clearly, her body remembered his as well as his remembered hers. He couldn't help but wonder if she was still so responsive.

* * *

It had taken him longer than he cared to admit to catch onto the fact that she was baiting him. Even though his first thought was a snarky reply that _of course_ she was baiting him, she always had, the fact of it was that he hadn't seen the full picture at first.

Granger would have never played coy like she had when he'd mentioned shagging Krum over the counters if she hadn't wanted to. She was a bright witch, and while he _might_ have caught her the slightest bit off guard, she'd carried through without batting an eye. It had undoubtedly been a tease, and that had led him to a conversation with Theo while in Diagon Alley on patrol.

"So…" Theo bit into a bagel. "Now you're upset that she flirted with you? Draco, I have to be honest, I can't keep up with your life, mate. You're giving me whiplash."

He gritted his teeth, and made a non-committal motion with his hands. "Granger would never just flirt with me. Have you not been paying attention?"

A blank stare was the only reply he got.

"She's toying with me."

A wry smirk twisted Theo's lips. "That sounds like it could be pleasurable."

Fisting his hands in his jacket, Draco groaned. "I don't know. It seems too easy that she'd be kind to me."

Theo rolled his eyes. "She's a sweet witch, Draco. You'd do well to remember that she's under a lot of strain right now. For her sake, I hope neither of you have an active subscription to the Daily Prophet considering today's edition."

"What do you mean?" Draco frowned.

"Daphne gave it to me to hide before Tori saw it this morning." His friend reached into his cloak and withdrew a rolled copy. "Granger's been the center of the anger since day one, but now that you've been dragged into it…"

On the cover, there was a clear photograph of them sneaking through the Ministry days after the initial matching for a meeting with an unspeakable. It moved with them, showing how Lucius tossed his cloak over Granger's head until it was ultimately ripped off and Draco hid her under his arm.

Her face had been buried in his chest.

They called her a slag. A homewrecker.

Draco shoved it back towards Theo. "I have to go." Technically, he ought to use the public Apparition point, and it was only a thirty second walk, but this couldn't wait.

"Where are you going?"

"Granger still has a subscription." He growled and vanished with a _crack_.

* * *

They hadn't managed to move yet, but Granger had selected a modern flat that his mother had already decorated. Thankfully, they hadn't been in the same room at the time, but they were working towards that meeting.

Still, Draco found her in their flat rather than hers. He knew because he had checked.

Granger sat in the middle of the sitting room, next to the window that spanned from floor to ceiling as she waved a cat toy around for Crooks. "Shouldn't you be at work?" Her eyes were bloodshot, and she grimaced as she wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jumper. "Before you ask, I'm—"

"Please don't tell me you're fine."

Her mouth snapped shut.

Draco crossed the room and sat in front of her. "I saw the Daily Prophet."

She nodded. "Well, none of it was a lie."

"You're not a slag, and for the record, you're not a homewrecker either. If anyone is, it's me."

It earned the slightest smile. "Are you going to go on the record and say that?"

"Will that make you happy? Even for a second?"

The bell on her monstrous beast's collar jingled as he trotted through the room, a plush fish toy trapped in his mouth.

"Not really."

"The offer stands if you change your mind." Draco smiled. "Is there anything I _can_ do to make you feel better?"

"Are you sure you want to?" She picked at her fingernails. "I've been rather foul to you."

"Yeah," Draco laughed. "I'm sure."

"Would you mind bringing me lunch? If I order delivery, it's only a matter of time before reporters camp outside, and they're already causing a scene at my flat. For obvious reasons, I'd rather not go get it myself either."

He blinked. "Lunch?"

Granger's face fell. "I know it's ridiculous and I should be able to go get it myself. You're meant to be patrolling right now anyway, and I know you have to watch me because I was a coward, but—"

He closed his hand over hers. "I was just surprised. Will you write down what you'd like? It's no trouble to bring it right back?"

That smile returned as she jumped to her feet and grabbed a Muggle pen from the table. Granger wrote down her order from a popular Indian restaurant and handed it back to him.

At the bottom of it, she'd written something else.

"Salmon? With curry?"

Her laugh sounded too much like bells. "It's for Crooks, if you don't mind?"

He'd have to make a trip in the opposite direction, but he didn't mind. Not really. Giving a mock salute, Draco grinned. "I'll be right back."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too sure how long hiatus will be. I suspect it'll last until my will to write returns and when writing doesn't put so much pressure on me and also when my mental health is better. But I'm still around! MidnightValkyrie and I are hosting Fic Club on Discord and we'd love to have you! Right now, we're in a summer reading of The Fallout, but we're open to all ships and are going to start expanding soon.
> 
> Stay safe out there. Come find me on tumblr under mrsren if you like.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't intended to update until I was done with this story entirely, but because of who I am as a person, here I am. I wanted to say that if domestic dramione, and also domestic Hermione, is not your cup of tea, I suggest not reading.

* * *

Granger moved most of her things into the flat in her own time while he was at work. It had to mean something that she wasn't completely avoiding him, but it couldn't have meant much since the only time she spoke to him was to ask what he wanted for dinner.

" _You don't have to cook for me. I don't expect it and if you like, we can share that responsibility."_

" _Maybe eventually," she shrugged. "I enjoy the distraction for now."_

She wasn't the most skilled cook—not that he had any room to judge—and she admitted over a burnt pan of Shepherd's Pie that she was an excellent cook when she used magic. Before Draco could ask why she was so insistent on doing it the muggle way—which, if you asked him, looked to be extremely frustrating—she explained her mum had always cooked to relax.

Her parents were lost to her, Draco knew. The memory charm performed on them before she and the other two had gone on the run was far too strong.

Years ago, she'd thrashed in his bed in the Slytherin dorms while crying out for them.

"Son of a—" The mutter could be heard from the sitting room as he inched quietly toward the kitchen. "It can't be so bloody hard."

Peeking around the corner, he saw her standing in front of the oven, her hands on her hips, and he smelled the undeniable scene of something burning. "What's wrong?"

She jumped, and her hip slammed against the pan settled on the stove. " _Merlin_ , I'm going to put a bell on you if you don't stop sneaking up on me!"

"I'll settle for just the collar if you will." He smirked, and laughed under his breath when she spluttered. "Why are you scolding the stove?"

Shuffling in front of the pan, she didn't let him see just exactly what it was that had burnt. "Well, cooking wasn't going well today."

"I see."

"And my mother used to bake when she was angry. She used to say it calmed her, but I'm anything but calm."

He had a solution to that, but he doubted she would appreciate it. "I can see that. What did you bake?"

"Nothing."

Draco tried to step forward, but she brandished a wooden spoon that look like it would hurt. "Come on, let me see."

She shook her head. "I'll just tell you that they were _supposed_ to be cookies."

His boots squeaked against the tile. "They can't be that bad."

"While I would normally appreciate your overenthusiastic reassurance, I can promise you that they are terrible."

Quick as could be, he snatched the spoon from her outstretched hand and knocked her out of the way with his hip. "Oh." Presented with a split second decision as she glared at him before squeezing her eyes shut—probably out of embarrassment—Draco plucked the smallest cookie, a term he would use loosely, and popped it into his mouth.

Granger's eyes shot open. "What are you—" _Crunch_. "God, they're not supposed to sound like that. Spit it out, you're going to break a tooth."

Draco ignored her, and ate the entire cookie. "It's great."

"It's bloody terrible, and you know it."

Stubborn enough, and maybe foolish enough, to see it through, Draco shook his head. "No, it's not."

Her finger inched toward the whisk and he cut his losses before she made a weapon out of a defenseless kitchen appliance.

"Alright, it's a smidge crispy." Draco admitted.

"A _smidge_? The DMLE could patent them as a weapon." Granger dumped them into the trash, but he caught the wide smile on her face when she turned away from him. "Thanks for eating them anyway."

"If you want to make them again, I'll eat them."

"Even if they're crispy?"

Draco nodded, but he really hoped they wouldn't always be crispy. "We could both try," Draco said slowly, watching her face. "I'm sure to ruin them."

Granger mulled it over. "I'd like that, but neither of us can use magic. You'd really do that?" Without waiting for a reply, she walked out of the room with the same smile still on her face.

* * *

Granger woke him before the alarm, and it was by dropping a rolled newspaper on his face, or more accurately, his nose. "I told you it was a mistake to come to my flat at midnight." To say she looked unhappy would have been an understatement, but the frown on her face didn't stop him from glancing at her mostly bare legs, and the too short sleep shorts Granger wore.

Though, the clearing of her throat did the trick.

Draco sat upright, and reached for the lamp before he was able to make out the cover. Lead formed in his stomach. "Bloody hell."

The sun hadn't risen yet, and it made sense that it would have to be something truly terrible for her to come out of the room she slept in and into his. "I'd planned to go out today, but now that I look like even _more_ of a home wrecker—"

"I spoke to the Daily Prophet." It wasn't something he'd planned to tell her; it was such a small thing. "And I told them that the engagement was off before I—before we—"

Granger bent forward, her nose not too far from his, and her eyes narrowed. "Right, well, the engagement was still on when you came to my flat. I would know since you brought me a fucking invitation!"

"I had planned to end it even then! It was just an excuse to see you!"

"Yes," she hissed "and that's exactly what it looks like now! An excuse to see me," Granger scoffed. "I hope you didn't tell a reporter _that_."

"I'll take care of this."

Sighing, she told him not to. "At this point, you're likely to only make it worse."

The blankets bunched around his waist, leaving his chest bare, but her eyes didn't wander. "Oh, is that right? Since all I can do is fuck up your life every time I come into it?"

She pulled her shorts down a bit in an attempt to cover herself, but it didn't do much. "I should have never said that to you, and no, that's not why. We're just better off waiting for this to settle rather than poking it. Please."

He wanted to pull her into bed that second, and not for any reason that he would have expected.

Granger was upset, had been for days now, and their first week as a _couple_ had been terrible on her. "How did you get this? The Daily Prophet hasn't run yet."

"Ron sent it. I think Parkinson was able to get an advance copy, and it only came ten minutes ago."

That made sense.

Draco took the plunge. "Come to bed, Granger. Just to sleep."

Miraculously, she didn't tell him to shove it. "Why?"

"You don't like to sleep alone when you're upset. You've probably been tossing and turning since you came here." He tilted his head toward the other side of the bed. "I promise I won't bother you."

Granger crawled over him, making sure to _accidentally_ squash his leg under her knee, and pulled the blankets over her. "Put on a shirt, Malfoy. Don't think I've forgotten your obnoxious tendency to cuddle in your sleep."

As he summoned a shirt from the wardrobe and tugged it over his head, he glanced down at her.

Dark, thick curls stretched across the pillow, and she stared up at him. "This isn't going to become a habit. Just tonight."

He nodded.

Several moments later, there was a sleepy, "Goodnight, Draco.

* * *

Hermione was still asleep when he cracked one eye open. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, and slow, warm rays barely streaked through the curtains as he moved carefully so as not to wake her. She lay with one eye flung over her eyes, and her lips were parted as she breathed in.

It was endearing up until she snored, and he had to muffle a low laugh behind his palm.

Still, this was rocky ground, Draco knew. It was one thing to step up and ask her to marry him—even though she might not see it as such a _nice_ thing of him to do—but it was quite another to wake up with her beside him in his bed. It wasn't as though anything had happened, besides a bit of cuddling that he knew had happened even if it wasn't meant to.

Apparently, his body still knew the way to hers, and he'd woken with a mouthful of stubborn curly hair, plus his arm looped around her waist. Not to mention the subtle, accidental way she'd pressed her arse back into him, which reminded him of his currently uncomfortable position.

Yet he couldn't make himself move entirely away from her. Sure, Draco scooted back a bit just in case she chose the worst moment to stir, and he was ready to squeeze his eyes shut so she thought he was asleep, but what he _needed_ to do was take a shower.

He needed to get ready for what was sure to be another long day in the DMLE, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

With his fingers slowly inching across the sheets, he allowed himself to brush her back slowly, back and forth until she gave a soft, contented sigh that made his cock stir.

Not only did he need to shower, he desperately needed to wank.

_Ridiculous._

"For what it's worth," he whispered. "I really am sorry for breaking up with you. Not that I think you're still angry about it, but it's undoubtedly soured any interaction with me since." Still clinging to the hope that she'd stay asleep, Draco's fingers froze as she moved slightly, and her shirt rode up. The innocent patch of bare skin was a little _too_ enticing for what was only a glimpse of her bare back, and Draco pulled his hand away.

Waiting for her to settle again felt like an eternity, but her breathing remained level, and he'd almost believed she was still asleep.

He'd _almost_ admitted something that he wasn't ready to say, and something she certainly wouldn't want to hear when her breath caught.

A slow smile curved his lips. "Good morning, Granger."

Her shoulders tensed, and then fell. She peeked at him from over her shoulder, pretty brown eyes still glossy from sleeping.

"Did you sleep well?"

Granger's tongue darted out and slid along her lip. "I did, actually."

Draco nonchalantly pulled the sheets up over his waist to hide his erection. "You're welcome to sleep in here any time."

Her brows knitted together, and she pushed out a harsh breath. "You're such a—"

"For sleeping." He said quickly. "Obviously. Just sleeping."

She tilted her head to the side, and pushed the blankets away. "Ri-ight." A coy little smile tugged at the edge of her mouth as she dragged the word out and she climbed over his legs.

Nearly kneed him too.

"Oi, watch it."

Color rose to her cheeks as she realized what she'd done, and there was a flash of a thought—barely even a real look of his imagination—of tugging her to him, and pressing her into the mattress until her entire body was flushed.

Draco cleared his throat.

"Would you like coffee or tea?" Dragging her fingers through her hair with difficulty, Granger set to attempting to untangle a knot while shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Coffee."

She nodded once and he didn't climb out of bed until the door clicked into place.

After climbing into the shower, and wrapping his fingers around his cock while under the scalding stream of water, Draco found himself with a plethora of thoughts about the witch.

But after his head had cleared, the only thing he could think of was the fact that not once had Astoria ever offered to make him coffee before work. Comparing them wasn't fair, and he slumped against the kitchen counter—the towel wrapped around his waist—while swallowing the fact that he'd probably been comparing them for some time. Even if he wanted to pretend it meant nothing, Draco knew it would have been a lie.

* * *

"Why are you so happy?" Potter asked over the crowd of Diagon Alley. "You know, on second thought, if it has anything to do with Hermione—"

Draco couldn't resist. "Oh, _yes_ , it has everything to do with Granger." He waited for a the slightly green, ill look to pass over his partner's face. "She joined me in bed last night."

"NO. NO. NO!" Potter clapped his hands over his ears and shook his head. "Absolutely not! It didn't happen because I can't hear it, and I'm not even going to _bother_ reading your lips."

Grinning ear to ear came effortlessly and he took a long drink from the cup Granger had shoved into his hands before all but pushing him into the fireplace herself. Apparently, while they could maintain an easy, nearly domestic relationship—so long as they avoided the hippogryph in the room—his joke at how that hadn't been how he'd imagined waking up with her in his bed had been a touch too far.

Draco could have kicked himself for the comment, too. One, it sounded like something a ponce would say, and two, it made it sound like he'd imagined waking up with her.

And he had, but that wasn't the point.

Potter's eyes dropped to the cup and the yelling stopped. "When did you get a thermos?"

"Granger gave it to me this morning. I made a comment about how I never take the time to cast a warming spell, so she gave me this. Granger didn't teach me the incantation, but I'll ask her." He shrugged.

"No, a thermos is what the cup is called. It's muggle. You didn't know?"

No, he hadn't. "Oh, that makes sense. Do you think she'll let me keep using it?"

"It's surprising she let you use it at all. That's her father's."

It nearly— _nearly—_ slipped out of his grasp and tumbled to the cobblestone at his feet. "I doubt that. Granger has plenty of these. I would know, considering I packed most of her kitchen, and she made me do it by hand just to spite me."

Harry didn't laugh. He pulled the thermos away from Draco and held it up, allowing the side to glisten under the sun. "See that?"

He pointed to the edge of the cap, and Draco would see two letters etched into the metal. _F.G._

"Frank Granger."

"Sweet mother of _fuck_."

A mother of two glared at him from a few feet away.

He swallowed hard. "This is her father's. Why would she give it to me?"

"Maybe she didn't realize."

That was wrong. She'd have noticed and both of them knew it. Draco kept an iron grip on it for the rest of the day, and suddenly, holding onto the cup had set him on edge more than anything else did.

* * *

Draco was there when Weasley picked out a ring for Pansy, and while he teased Ron that there were better ways to spend his break, they both knew Draco wouldn't have missed it.

He wasn't there when Weasley proposed, however. The man's first idea had been to do so publicly until Draco pointed out—and only after he'd been asked—that while Pansy enjoyed extravagant things, at the center, she was a private person. After all, how else had they managed to say so happy in a secret relationship for over a year?

"Have you heard?" Granger's voice drifted down the corridor, and when she reached the kitchen, she paused mid-step. "What are you doing?"

Draco was already knelt down, and even he had to admit that he looked absurd with the tiny decorative dish in his hands. "I'm trying to feed him."

"By hand?"

About a foot away from him, Crooks glared at him, his tail swishing back and forth against the tile. Draco tried to push the bowl toward him, and Crooks laid a paw on it before slightly pushing it backwards.

"You're such a bastard!"

"Don't call him that!" Granger laughed. "It's not as difficult as you're making it, Malfoy."

In one last attempt, Draco pushed the bowl toward the beast again. For a moment, he had hope when Crooks walked forward.

Until he sank itty-bitty teeth into the flesh between Draco's thumb and finger.

"Just let me feed you, you tremendous fucking prat. You really are _her_ cat."

He expected Granger to point out that Crooks wasn't really a cat, but she only looked down at him with an amused expression. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Draco fell quiet.

"I don't see the similarities." The corner of her mouth twitched and her attempt to keep a straight face cracked. "If you leave his dish, he'll eat. Crooks doesn't like to eat in front of strangers. Just give him time."

"He used to." He didn't think about it before saying it, and Draco regretted it. "Nevermind. What did you come in here for?"

"Ron called this morning, but I didn't want to wake you on your day off from work." Granger turned and pulled two cups from the cupboard while switching the coffee maker on. It always struck him that she did it by hand, and didn't set up charms to do it for her.

But he also knew that all of this—the cooking, the baking, the cleaning—was an attempt to distract herself from the situation she'd found herself in, and the fact that she didn't want to leave the house even though she would have to eventually.

Dressed in the sleep shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, and a long shirt that almost defeated the purpose of pants, Granger leaned against the counter. She traced the scratches in the mug. "He and Pansy are engaged, and apparently they're not wasting any time."

Leave it to Pansy. "Oh?"

"They're getting married next week."

Draco choked. "That's no time at all!"

Nodding, she shrugged. "They didn't want to wait, and from what I understand, Pansy's taking over the Burrow this morning."

"What?"

"From what Ron told me, it sounds like her parents aren't going to support her in the decision." Granger nibbled her lip, and set the cup on the counter with a soft thud. "I think they're going to disown her, and I think you should talk to her. You're close, aren't you?"

Close wasn't even half of it. He and Pansy had been best mates since before they could talk, and even then, she'd beat him all of their tiffs by screaming louder. "Yeah, we are. I'll talk to her today."

Granger laced her fingers together. "Do you want to eat breakfast with me?"

"I would like that." Draco slid to her side, and lightly bumped her hip with his. "How can I help?"

Her eyes lit up.

* * *

Just as Granger said, Draco found her at the Burrow in a sea of papers with a determined Molly Weasley sitting at the head of the table.

"Good morning, Draco." Molly greeted him, shuffling through a stack of papers. "It's been a bit since I've seen you."

"Yes," he said as he came to stand behind Pansy's chair, and his fingers tightened over the back of it. "George's birthday wasn't so long ago." Nudging Pansy's back, he asked, "Do you mind talking with me for a bit?"

Her eyes were red rimmed, and she didn't look like the happy bride-to-be she should have been. "I'm busy."

Molly shot him a terse look. "A break would be good, dear. Why don't you take a walk with Draco and I'll make lunch?"

Pansy muttered that she wasn't hungry, but rose out of her seat anyway with a nod. She followed him out the door, and wrapped her around her middle. "I thought she would hate me." She spoke first, dragging her feet as they walked down the decline of the hill. "He wanted to out our relationship a long time ago, but I was so convinced that his entire family would loathe me and—" Her voice cracked.

"Tell me what happened."

Wiping her eyes, she muttered, "My father told me if I married a blood traitor, then I could consider myself no longer a part of the family. When I told him I wasn't going to change my mind, he kicked us out of the house."

"Ron was with you?"

She nodded. "He didn't want me to go alone and then he brought me straight here. I think Molly had to have known before we arrived, but she just hugged me, and told me it would be alright now."

"Does this have anything to do with you getting married next week?"

"Yeah, my parents must think I'll come crawling back to them, but I won't. And the sooner they know that, the better. I know I've made my own mistakes, but it's been such a long time since the war, and blood prejudice…"

Draco slid his hand into his pockets and nodded. "I'm sorry."

"His mum has treated me more like a daughter in twelve hours than my parents did in twenty-two years. How fucking absurd is that?" A moment passed, and then she asked, "What do your parents think of _your_ engagement?"

He'd known it was coming. "Father knew before I had the chance to tell him, and arranged everything before we came back to England."

"So, she really did run."

Wind swept past them, tousling his hair in one go. "Yeah, she did. Father's taking it well. It seems he realized marrying Astoria wasn't what I truly wanted anyway."

"And your mother?"

Draco winced. "I haven't seen her in person since, but I can't imagine she's taking it well. You know she adored Astoria." It was true that his mother had doted on the witch, delighted by all of the things they had in common. He thought of Hermione, and her interests, and it pained him more than he liked to admit that the pair of them might never get on. "I think she'll like Granger, but given the circumstances, I'm not sure how their first meeting will go."

He wasn't holding out hope for it to go well either.

Pansy leaned back on her heels. "Well, at least your parents have come a long way from their former beliefs. Mine never will. I always imagined a big wedding. My parents would have been there, and maybe, just fucking _maybe,_ they would finally be proud of me."

"Come on," Draco elbowed her gently. "Are you happy?"

"Yeah, I'm really happy Besides, we're supposed to be talking about you." She pushed her hair behind her ears, and glanced up. "When are the two of you getting married?"

"We're waiting for the deadline." He didn't explain Granger's hopes that they wouldn't have to get married at all, and he turned on his heel. "I have to go, but you'll be alright?"

Pansy gave him a watery smile. "I will be. Will you let Molly know I'm going to stay out here for a few more minutes?"

Draco told her he would, and took a look over his shoulder as she stood at the edge of the hill. He ran into Weasley just as he opened the door.

"Mum said you were—"

"I know she wants a big wedding." Draco cut in, talking over him. "And she's going to get it, no matter what it costs. Bill it to my Gringotts account."

Ron's cheeks grew red. "I don't need—"

"I know you don't." Draco's voice softened. "Really, I do. It's not a handout. It's not because you can't do it for her. It's because she's been _my_ best mate, and I want to. You'd do anything for Granger, so I know you understand."

Raking his fingers through his hair, Ron looked like he still didn't like the idea, but he nodded. "Alright, but you should know—"

Draco snorted. "Oh, I've seen lists for her dream wedding. I already know. She's out there, and as delightful as my company is, I think she needs you."

Ron pushed past him without another word.

* * *

Low voices filtered through the flat as he arrived, and Draco hesitantly made his way toward the kitchen where Granger seemed to spend all of her time.

"Is he terrible to live with?" Theo asked, and Draco paused just at the end of the corridor.

Granger's reply was slow, and he imagined she probably didn't want to answer. "No, he's kind to me. Draco tries not to hover, and I think he's doing his best to make me happy even with the situation we've found ourselves in."

There was a light sound, like ice bumping against the edge of a glass. "Are you?" There was a pause. "Happy, I mean?"

_Nosy fucking Theo._

"Not at the moment, but that isn't his fault. Sometimes, I wonder if I should have ran anyway. Viktor offered, even after I moved here—"

It wasn't anything he knew, not the last bit at least.

Draco stepped around the corner, his features hardened, and whatever she'd been about to say next died on her lips. "What are you doing here?"

Theo drained the rest of his tea, and looked between the two of them. "I was just dropping by, but I've lost track of time, and I should be going. Thanks for the talk, Granger."

She waved slightly. "Why are you glaring at me?"

"Krum asked you to leave with him _again_?"

Granger's eyes sharpened as quickly as they narrowed. "You were eavesdropping."

"You're avoiding the question."

She huffed and threw her hands up. "Yes, he did. I told him no, and honestly, I don't see how it involves you at all!"

"Of course you don't. Why in the bloody hell would _I_ want to know if you're considering running off with him anyway!" His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. "You didn't think I'd be curious to know why you were still in contact with your ex-boyfriend?"

Granger stopped trying to talk over him. Fuck, he was nearly certain she'd stopped breathing all together. "You're jealous."

His mouth snapped shut.

"I can't process that right now." She took him by surprise. "Theo told me something, but I need to ask you about it."

_Bloody fucking hell._

Granger took a step toward him, her arms folded across her chest. "Did you ever want to marry Astoria? I mean, really and truly _want_ to marry her?"

"No." The answer slipped out before he thought there must be a nicer way to word it. "No, I didn't."

"Then why did you propose?"

He was going to kill Theo. "He didn't tell you that part too? I mean, while he was busy airing the rest of my ruddy business."

"No," Granger's throat moved slightly as she swallowed. "He told me to ask you."

"I thought it was the right thing to do." Draco sighed. "I caved to pressure from my parents, and purebloods typically wait so long to get married, so I proposed to Astoria. It was my thought that I would be happy, but…"

"But?" she prompted.

He glared at the ceiling. "I was so miserable the entire time. It was a mess of my own making, and more than one person was hurt."

Granger turned away from him, and pulled a drawer open. "I told him I wasn't interested, and to not contact me again, but this is what Viktor sent me. I can't imagine why you care, but you do, and I promise you that I'm not running away again. And if you'd like to see what he wrote to me, then you can." She pressed a folded piece of parchment into his hands.

When she left the room, he considered asking her to stay, but this was an arrangement of convenience on her end and he'd never particularly handled rejection well.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, new chapter for you. All my thank you's to mcal and dreamsofdramione, but this chapter was not beta read because I am a rash person who decided to update today because it's been a good day. All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> And all my thanks to everyone in fandom that's told me happy birthday!

* * *

He wasn't blind, so Draco knew something was wrong. It had certainly been building over the past two weeks, and he'd seen it in her as she went through the motions of each day. And sure, he had thought it strange that she hadn't left their—and that was still hard to grow accustomed to—flat since the public had become to slander her.

The cruel words, the headlines, the accusations, had continued. If anything, they had only grown worse rather than quieting, and while Draco believed sheltering in place was only delaying the inevitable, he wasn't going to tell her that. It was Granger's call, whenever she chose to make it.

After a mandatory morning meeting with Robards and the bulk of the available Aurors, he popped into the sitting room, and his blood ran cold.

Prim as ever, not to mention proper with her legs crossed at her ankles, his mother sat on the sofa. Her hands were clasped, resting against her knee, and across from her, Granger sat in a leather chair that didn't match the room since it had come from her home.

Strangely though, neither of them looked uncomfortable at all.

"Miss Granger told me you would be home soon, and invited me to wait." Narcissa smiled. "Don't just stand there, have a seat."

He moved toward his mother.

She shook her head. "No, not with me. Sit with your bride-to-be, Draco."

Granger scooted over, and while the chair was terribly large—big enough for her to comfortably stretch across with Crooks—it was still a tight fit. Her hip was warm against him, and his fingernails bit into the leather upholstery.

"Your mother was just telling me how she's helping organize Pansy's wedding." Granger fidgeted in place.

Wonderful. She was more uncomfortable with him there than she was to be alone with his mother.

"Are you?" He asked when his brain caught up. "Really, _you're_ helping plan the wedding?"

His mother looked offended. "Of course I am. Pansy has been a close family friend since you were born. Her own father may not be willing to see past his shortcomings, but I'm not quite as close-minded as I once was."

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Granger's lips part slightly, and her breathing quickened.

Swallowing, Narcissa either didn't see the motion, or she ignored it. "But enough about that. Have the two of you given any thought as to when you'll get married?"

Granger's knee bounced up and down, and it wasn't the sort of thing that could be ignored.

Against his better judgement, Draco laid his hand on her knee, and the signet ring on his finger glinted under the soft light. "We've decided to wait until the deadline, actually."

"Your father thought that would be the case."

"Pardon me," Granger's voice was gravelly as she shifted in the chair, and crossed one leg over the other. "I'm sorry, but this is so _bizarre_. Mrs. Malfoy, I understand that you're polite, but you can't possibly be happy that I'm here."

His mother blinked, and Draco tensed.

One wrong word from her, and he promised himself that he'd make sure it never happened again.

"Instead of Astoria, I assume?" Narcissa tapped a finger against the back of her hand that was tucked below it. "If my son is happy, then I am happy. I realize this situation isn't what either of you expected, but you've made your choices. Just as I have made my own choice to welcome you into our home."

The way Granger leaned into him was slight, unnoticeable to his mother, but Draco felt warmth bleed through her clothing and the heavy jacket he wore as part of his uniform.

Narcissa continued, "Though I'm not sure why you would be so worried when the two of you were sneaking around Hogwarts for nearly the entirety of your final term."

He choked, and Granger drove her elbow into his side, right between his ribs. "Bloody hell, that _hurts_!"

Her eyes were wide, and she glared at him. "You told her? I thought—"

"I didn't tell her anything!" Draco ground out, pulling her arm away by gently gripping her wrist. "The fact she knows is news to me."

His mother watched them with thinly veiled amusement. "You can't honestly believe you did a brilliant job of hiding it. I'm your mother, Draco and a mother knows things."

His cheeks heated. If she knew they'd been together, not to mention her description of them sneaking around, just how much did she know?

From the pinched look on Granger's face, she was probably thinking the same thing.

"I suppose you could say that I've had years to warm up to the idea of you, Miss Granger." Narcissa smiled.

Draco counted the minutes until his mother left.

* * *

Granger was reading, but the problem was that she hadn't turned the page in ten minutes. From his spot on the sofa, Draco sighed. "What's wrong?"

She glanced up, closing her book as her shoulders slipped slightly. "I haven't left this flat in fourteen days. Isn't that ridiculous?"

Ah, so that's what this was about. "You needed time to process. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I quit a job I loved, and ended a career I thought I would—" Her fingers curled around the book tightly. "Anyone who knows me—or even those who don't—expect me to do more than this, but I can't stop hiding."

Draco stood and crossed the room. He sat next to her and pulled the book from her hands as he tilted her head up. "I cannot stress this enough, but _fuck them_. You don't owe anyone a single thing, so if you want to stay home, then do that."

"I don't want to be a coward." She tucked strands of hair behind her ears and angled herself toward him. Granger's legs were tucked beneath her. "I…"

"Anything you ever say will stay between the two of us, so if you need to talk, then talk, Granger." Draco rested his elbow on the back of the sofa and propped his head up in his palm. "I'm all yours."

 _Somehow_ , that phrase didn't sound entirely innocent, even to his own ears.

Her nose crinkled. "I don't know who I am without my career. It's so—" Her eyes began to water. "It's devastating. I worked so hard with the intent to make a difference, but my own research was used to create this law. Think of how miserable it will make everyone affected and it's all _my_ fault."

Draco realized he wasn't meant to say anything and remained quiet.

"I sit here, in this flat, and wait for my fiance to come home because it's the only human interaction I get." Granger spat, and he worked hard not to linger on the word _fiance_. "My best friend is getting married, so I don't want to upset him with my sporadic moods. My other best friend tried to call me on the Floo, but I blocked his Floo—"

So, that was why he'd missed Potter's wake up call two days earlier. It had earned him an earful, but he didn't think Granger would see the humour in that currently.

"And then there's the truth that I just feel so alone."

He stilled and the words _I didn't know_ were on the tip of his tongue, but that would ahve been wrong. Of course he'd known.

He just hadn't stopped for long enough to focus on her.

Without thinking, Draco slipped his hand over hers, and threaded their fingers together. "I'm here. What can I do to make you feel better?" He traced the bumps of her knuckles and watched her breath catch. "For better or worse, we're in this together now."

The corner of her mouth lifted. "Did you mean it when you said we could make cookies? Because it just so happens that I ordered a mixer and I'd really love to see you try to use it."

He had no idea what a mixer was, but when she looked at him like that, there was no possible way Draco could tell her no.

* * *

Somehow, standing in a kitchen in a flat with her at midnight made sense and maybe it was because it was all he'd imagined when he thought of life after graduation.

Granger's head fell back as she laughed, and he wasn't twenty-four anymore.

He was eighteen and letting her step on his toes while they danced at the top of the Astronomy Tower because she thought he should have better memories than the one he had.

The way the truth barreled into him was unexpected, but on some level, he'd known it was coming. Draco's fingers curled around the edge of the ceramic bowl as she turned on her heel, tying her hair up in the same motion, and he just—he couldn't think.

"Are you alright? You look ill."

There was a smudge of flour on her cheek. Probably from her sleeve and then she'd wiped her face.

He swallowed, and he swore he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "I regret it."

Frowning, Hermione said, "I'm going to need a bit more information than that."

 _Fuck_. "The night I left you at the top of the Astronomy tower—" _the night we snuck out for one last time and I didn't tell you the truth_ "—I've regretted it ever since."

Her face paled, and Hermione looked away from him. "You don't have to apologize to me. Really, I don't expect you to. Like I've said, it was a long time ago. We were just kids."

_We're just kids, and my family expects me to marry, to have an heir._

_We can wait. If that's what we want, then we'll decide that_ together _when we get to that point._

_No, I'm sorry. I don't want this. I don't want you._

At the time—in the heat of a moment that had made him physically sick for days, he'd said the one thing that was sure to drive a wedge between them that she wouldn't be so quick to pull out. It had been for a good reason, Draco had thought, but honestly, he hadn't believed that for some time.

"No," he gulped. "You might not expect me to apologize, but it doesn't mean I shouldn't."

Hermione took the bowl from his hands and he watched her put the ingredients in before handing it back to him. "Fine. Apology accepted, but really, I don't want to talk about it. We've managed to get along now, and if we bring this up, well, I think we both know what will happen."

"Yeah, last time you threw a bottle at my head."

That earned a smile. " _Near_ your head." She corrected and nudged him toward the counter. "That's the mixer. Think you can figure it out?"

Draco recognized that she was giving him an out by changing the subject, and he seized it before another burst of bravery could rise to cause him to blurt just _why_ he'd dumped her because he knew it wasn't a good reason, and knew she probably already knew too.

Draco set the bowl in place—that much he could figure out on his own. "I missed you." he whispered.

Granger tilted her head to the side, strands of hair falling to frame her face, and he caught the way she slid closer to him.

_It's just to show me how to work this infernal muggle contraption._

"Yeah," the syllable slipped past her lips in a tiny breath, and he barely heard it. "I missed you too. Okay, just don't panic when you start it, alright?"

"You're not instilling any confidence in me here."

She giggled. "I admit I'm a little worried. This was expensive, and I had to pay extra for the colour too. Please don't break it." Granger ran a finger over the mint-coloured surface, and shot a pleading look at him. "I know you can buy another, but be _careful_. Don't stick your fingers in it."

" _What?"_ Her hand was warm over his as she dragged it upward, and she nodded toward the controls.

Draco slid the knob all the way to the right, and it was evidently a mistake.

The mixer began to shake as the whisks started too quickly and batter flew everywhere.

It landed in her hair and he _knew_ it was going to be a bitch to wash out. Batter landed in his hair too, and a spattering of the eggs landed right on top of his head, the yolk dripping onto his forehead.

She burst into laughter. "Oh, my _God_. This is even better than I could have imagined."

"You knew this would happen, you little witch!"

Backing away, she held her hands up as he moved to grab her.

Thinking it couldn't possibly get any worse, Draco should have prepared for exactly that to happen. However, he lunged for Hermione, and a clump of the batter previously in his hair fell to the tile in a large clump.

"No!" Her eyes widened, and she slammed into him. "It's going to fall!"

To his absolute horror, the appliance had slowly inched toward the edge, and three—two—one—

Draco shot forward, twisting as he did, and he managed to wrap his arms around the irritatingly teal mixer as Granger shouted, but he slipped on the batter.

"Bloody fucking hell—" He growled, and hit the floor with a thud.

The cord was ripped out of the wall, and the stirring stopped.

He was covered.

Laughing uncontrollably, she knelt down next to him, and took it from his hands to set it on the counter. "Are you hurt?"

Draco sat up, and ignored the little catch of breath—though he'd think about it later—as he tugged his shirt up and over his head. "My pride is a little bruised, but I'll live."

She leaned forward, and scooped a bit of batter off his cheek—and it seemed to be the only bit that had been properly mixed—and popped her index finger into her mouth.

Granger's cheeks hollowed as she sucked her finger, probably much slower than she realized, and he nearly groaned. He'd been right. She _was_ going to be the death of him. "I don't think we'll be making cookies, but it tasted good."

He propped himself up on his forearms, and watched her keep her gaze from straying below his face. "You said you missed me too."

"You were my best friend, and more, but to suddenly not have you in any capacity was devastating." Her shoulders fell. "I avoided you, and maybe it wasn't fair, but I was afraid to be close to you again."

He wondered if there was more to it than that.

If it was because she was afraid for feelings that were all too familiar to both of them to resurface.

Draco cleared his throat. "Do you think we could go back to that?"

She grinned. "I think we can manage that now."

Whatever weight had been on his shoulders slipped away, and he managed a nod. "Friends then."

He said the words, but he knew full well that even if they could manage to be close friends once more, Draco hadn't forgotten every single thing about her.

And he knew that he was in so much fucking trouble when she wiped egg off his forehead.

* * *

He heard footsteps padding down the corridor as he sipped his coffee. The guest door swung shut, delayed, in her wake, and Granger rounded the corner to see him leaned against the counter.

She wasn't wearing pants, just a long shirt, and if she stretched up on her toes to reach the top counter where he'd stored the cereal—and maybe it was on purpose to irritate her—he'd probably see a glimpse of her knickers. He wouldn't do that, of course, because friends didn't do that.

 _Friends_ , he snorted internally. Draco didn't know how long he would be able to fool himself, or how long it would take before he inevitably fucked this up, but he did know that Granger had to be trying to kill him.

"Morning." He lifted his cup in a greeting.

Yawning, she nodded and walked to the counter. "Why do you have to put it so high?" Granger muttered and stood on her toes.

He didn't look.

That wasn't to say he didn't want to because Merlin did he.

"You said you were going to the Burrow today, didn't you?" Granger asked, and he didn't turn to look at her until her feet were fixed solidly back on the ground. "Malfoy?"

"Yes, I am."

"Would you mind if I came with you?"

If he were nicer, like a _friend_ would have been, Draco probably would have warned her about what she would be walking into when it came to Pansy's current dilemma of tying up loose ends for a wedding that was _tomorrow_. But he wasn't nice, and he really wanted her to come, so he didn't. "Were you planning on putting pants on for that, or is this a private show for me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Somehow, with all the witches you've dated, I don't think you mind my state of undress. Plus, it's not as if you can see much. Oh, no, a bit of thigh! How scandalous. Whatever will you do now that I've ruined my image of innocence?"

"I suppose I'll have to marry you in order to save your reputation."

"If you're going to make a joke about marrying above my station, I would advise against that." The warning came in a low laugh, and a shiver ran down the nape of his neck.

He snorted. "It's probably me who is marrying above my _station_ ," Draco murmured. "Shall I get down on one knee right now?"

A dark brow rose and she tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck. "Well, strictly speaking, I never did get an actual proposal."

Draco moved.

"Don't get on one knee," Granger said quickly. "It was a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

He must not have looked convinced.

"Plus, you don't even have a ring."

In a display of wandless—and non-verbal—magic that took more effort than it was worth, in an effort to impress the witch in front of him, Draco held his hand out and waited for a box to sail into his waiting hand. "A Malfoy is always prepared."

"You don't have to—the Ministry gave us engagement rings—" Granger held up her hand and shoved it in his face. It was a simple band, one that would likely tarnish within a few months.

He cracked the box open, but didn't kneel down for worry she'd knock him over in a haste to get away from him. Draco was pleased when her gaze dropped to the ring and she couldn't quite look away. "I respect that you don't expect a ring, Granger. It wouldn't do though if you didn't have one."

"Because you would never give your fiance such a plain ring," she said. "Even if it was for a sham of an engagement."

The words burrowed deep in his chest and twisted. "Right. I'm a Malfoy, after all."

It had been a chance to correct her, and she'd have believed him if he had, but he'd gone to fuck it up.

She nodded. "It's beautiful."

Draco didn't ask if he could do it, and maybe he ought to have, but he pulled the ring from her finger. Laying it on the counter, he stepped closer to her, and held her hand up as he slid the ring onto her finger. "It looks good on you."

Granger peeked up at him, her lashes dark against her cheeks as her eyes fluttered shut. "Thank you."

He didn't move.

Honestly, he was certain he didn't even bother to breathe, and he couldn't bring himself to pull his hand away from hers. It would have been so easy to thread their fingers together.

Draco wondered if she would let him, if she'd return the motion, or if she would tear away from him. For all his wondering, he couldn't make himself find out. "I have to be there by noon. Is that enough time for you?"

Granger nodded, and he felt her eyes on him as she watched him go.

* * *

At his side, she was nervous. Rocking back on her heels as they stood in the kitchen with Molly, Granger let the woman wrap her into a tight hug.

Weasley entered the room not long after their arrival. "Pansy's asking for you."

With a nod, Draco left the room and climbed the rickety stairs. Pansy wasn't difficult to find if he followed the sharp crack of her voice as she barked orders. He found her in a spare bedroom where he recognized Fleur sorting through what he could only assume was a to-do list. "Do you mind if I borrow you?"

Fleur slipped out of the room the first chance she got, muttering under her breath.

"I'm really very busy and I don't have time to chat."

"Granger and I are here to help with the setup, Pansy. Potter will be here soon too, along with the rest of their bloody friends."

Pansy groaned. "God, that's even worse!"

"Yeah," he snorted. "You've got a bunch of Gryffindors setting up your wedding."

Her face reddened and he knew quite well that it wasn't a good sign. "Granger's here?"

He nodded.

Pansy fell quiet. "How is she? Weasley's worried about her, and not just because she's marrying _you_."

"You still call him Weasley?"

"You still call her Granger?" She mocked. "Answer the question, and tell me honestly. No one has seen her since the Ministry announced this."

Rubbing the back of his neck. Draco sighed. "She seems to be okay in private, but I'm worried about what will happen when she's in public myself, honestly."

"As long as she doesn't run into Astoria, I think it will be alright."

Lead formed in his stomach, and Draco stared at her. "Astoria? Our separation wasn't mutual, but I don't think she's going to—"

With a flick of her wand, the door shut, and she shook her head. "Have you not heard from Theo? I gave him something to give to you."

"No, we were meant to meet for breakfast earlier this week, but I overslept that day. I had a late night, you see—"

She gagged. "Spare me."

" _No_ , not that I don't wish—"

Shaking her head, Pansy put her hands up. "Stop, this is serious. Fuck, I can't believe Theo didn't get it to you. Astoria went to a writer at Witch Weekly last weekend and revealed your relationship with Granger in Hogwarts. She's spun a story that Granger created this marriage shite so she could steal you away."

His blood ran cold. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." It would bring about a second coming of brutal publicity.

"I've managed to block the story for now, but there will no preventing it—"

"There must be someone I can bribe." He hissed.

She laid a hand on his forearm. "I don't think there is this time. You should tell her before she finds out from someone else, or from the magazine itself."

Draco couldn't accept that. "I'll be back in time to help, I promise."

"Draco, you can't—" Pansy yelled after him, but he ripped the door open and hurried down the stairs.

He nearly knocked Granger backward at the bottom. Alone, she looked him over, her brows knitting together in worry. "Draco? What's going on?"

Knowing he ought to tell her, Draco decided against it anyway. "I have something I need to take care of. I'll be back in an hour."

The beginning of a question was on the tip of her tongue, but he was already gone.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read my little story.

Romilda Vane sat across from him, a not so pleasant smile on her face as she ran her fingers along a quill she'd plucked from her desk. "Draco—"

"Mr. Malfoy will do." Draco's tone remained flat, and he sat forward, his fingers threaded together. "It came to my attention that you were planning to run a story on me."

"Well," white teeth flashed as she talked, and it was a stark contrast to the dark red that painted her lips. "It's not so much about you as it is your new wife-to-be."

He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing, and was pleased to see her fidget in her seat. "Anything done to her, or said about her has everything to do with me."

With the glint in her eyes that formed at that particular statement, Draco knew it would end up in an article if it were published.

And he'd begun to doubt his luck when it came to preventing it.

"I'm here to ask you not to publish it." Draco said, keeping his voice level.

"That won't be possible, unfortunately." The word slipped off the tip of her tongue, but clearly, she didn't think it was unfortunate at all. "In fact, we've already formed a contract with the source, and as you know, wizarding agreements are unbreakable. Typically, anyway."

The jab didn't go unnoticed. "Typically," Draco agreed smoothly. "In this case, it would be in your best interest—"

"Is it not true?" She cut him off, and he didn't get the chance to reply before she was on again. "From what I remember, you were sneaking around an awful lot."

Perhaps his mother had been right—he and Granger weren't as sneaky as they'd previously believed.

Draco cleared his throat and it was lucky she didn't notice. "A better question is why were you watching me."

The witch in front of him didn't quite clam up, but color rose to her cheeks. "I would have never believed it, but now that I know, it makes sense."

 _Bloody hell_. This couldn't happen, not with Granger finally starting to _want_ to venture outside their flat.

"I remember once that Hermione Granger never returned to the common room one night. It was near Christmas, and it stuck out because it was the head girl."

Draco remembered the night, but it was far from the only time it had happened. "What can I do to ensure you don't publish this?"

She smiled. "Oh, there's nothing you can do. It's really my duty to report it, given the facts that she assisted in this project, isn't it?"

"Granger didn't discover a charm in order to snatch me up, Vane. _I_ was the one who asked her to marry me, not the other way around."

"Miss Vane will do." She mocked. "I think that's all the time I have today, but thank you for your _illuminating_ comments."

Kicked out of her office, Draco dug his fingers into his hair before returning to the Burrow.

* * *

Granger balanced at the top of a muggle ladder, and the reason why had nothing to do with an impending wedding. Lingering at the door, Draco watched her—and his eyes swept down her figure—reach for the fixture with a cloth over her hand.

Ron and Mr Weasley stood beneath her, both looking up in concern.

"Miss—Hermione," his mother's voice rung out. "Are you sure you want to climb up there? Perhaps one of the boys could—" The ladder gave a low creak and Narcissa's fingers turned white as she gripped a bowl. "You're going to fall!"

"I'll be fine." Granger laughed. "It's just changing a light bulb."

Surely, she realized that would do nothing to calm his mother, but Draco found it endearing the way his mother flitted about, her brows drawn in panic. He didn't say anything as he entered the room, worrying it might surprise her—and cause her to fall off the ladder.

She unscrewed the bulb, replaced it, and climbed down without a hitch.

His mother released a short breath once Granger's feet were back on the ground. "Draco," she smiled warmly. "We wondered when you'd return."

When Granger looked at him, there was something different. There wasn't a hue to her cheeks, or anything that was obvious, but she canted her head to the side before asking him to join her outside. She led him out the back door, and part-way down the grassy hill away from where the rest of the Burrow's inhabitants—and non-inhabitants—had gathered.

"Where did you go?"

He watched her reach up to tie her hair up. "It was—"

"And please don't tell me it was work." She interrupted with a smirk as she twisted an elastic around her hair. "I would know if it was because Ron and Harry would have told me."

Draco meant to tell her the truth. It had a way of coming out on its own, usually at the worst time, but he was struck by just how happy she looked. Granger had never quite stopped smiling, but a genuine curve to her smart mouth had been hard to come in the past few weeks. He reasoned to tell her later. "It wasn't important," he settled on. "Astoria is just—well, she's apparently not who I thought she was is all."

Granger reached for him, and laid a hand on his forearm. "I can't say I understand, but should you need to talk about it, I'll be here."

His throat was tight. "Thank you. I heard my mother call you by your first name."

"I asked her because I thought it was silly to refer to me as Miss Granger when I'm going to be Mrs. Malfoy if all of this still, well, you know."

He hadn't allowed himself to consider her with his last name since tracking her down.

Still, he couldn't deny the possessiveness that flared up.

"That wasn't the entire reason though." She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jumper, and gave a short huff. "Whenever Astoria comes up, she always addresses her by name, and being addressed by a title made me feel like an outsider."

It made him stop, and his mouth snapped shut. Not only did he call Astoria by her first name—and it did make sense because of their prior relationship—but he called her by her nickname too. "Do you want me to call you Hermione?"

She blinked. "What? No."

"I just meant that if you…"

Granger shook her head. "You can call me Granger still. You've always called me that."

"What should I call you if you become my wife?"

"We'll re-evaluate then." She leaned back on her heels. "Who knows. Maybe I'll hyphenate. Hermione Granger-Malfoy."

He wanted to kiss her.

He always wanted to kiss her, but the temptation right then was heavier than ever while she looked up at him.

"They've already set up most things, but Ron's carrying out chairs right now. There are a lot of chairs." She laughed, and apparently missed his change in demeanor. "Do you have any idea how many people she invited?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"She invited her parents, did you know that?"

He hadn't.

Granger pulled him along by his sleeve, and her hand dropped as they neared the others. "They sound like terrible parents if what Ron said can be believed."

"They are." Draco nodded. "Absolutely fucking horrible, and for their sake, I hope they don't show up here."

"I'm sure they're smarter than that. Will you start on the right while I help with the left?"

* * *

After a long night of setting up the same tent—though with major changes—for Bill and Fleur's wedding, Draco and Hermione had landed in the flat. She swayed on her feet, bumping against him as she made her way down the corridor.

"I'm going to sleep. I'm dead on my feet." The door to the second bedroom had closed with a click.

Stubborn as he was to admit it, Draco had laid in bed for a long while after that, simultaneously wishing the door would crack open to reveal her, and realizing it would have been a bad idea if she had. And then he thought about what could have happened if she _had_ —and realistically, nothing would have happened—but he certainly imagined what he would have _liked_ to happen.

It was nothing that two friends would do. The fact that there was a pretty ring with a decent sized rock on her finger didn't matter, and neither did the fact that it had been picked out for her once.

 _Once_.

She'd never known that their quiet conversations at the top of the Astronomy tower, or in the other's bed hadn't been empty thoughts. _I think I could marry you_ , he had said, and he remembered it. Granger may have believed it had only been said due to the quiet afterglow of sex when they should have been in Hogsmeade, but he'd known it wasn't. Just as he knew how badly she'd wished it could have been true.

But she had ambitions, and he knew every single one of them, even the ones she'd never said out loud. The intention had never been to whisk her off her feet and march her into a binding ceremony after graduation, and it might have been a stretch to say there had ever been a real plan, but he'd thought _eventually_ it was where they were meant to be.

He'd just never imagined it would have happened like this.

Draco spent far too long thinking about every moment, every memory she had ever starred in, and tried to ignore the hollow spot that had been carved into his chest as he rolled over.

* * *

When he woke, sunlight streamed through the room, and out of instinct as he pulled himself out of dream, Draco reached across the bed. Rather than finding a warm body, or his fingers brushing against the distinctly feminine slope of a hip, he realised with a start that he was completely alone. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled his fingers into the rumpled sheets until eventually staring at the ceiling.

It wasn't a surprise that she was still asleep. The fact that there was no familiar sound of footsteps padding down the carpeted corridor, or the humming he often heard when she lingered in the shower for too long came as a reassurance.

It wasn't that he didn't want to see her.

In fact, Draco often felt as if he could barely breathe until he saw her in the mornings. While it had only been a handful of weeks since her world had been completely ripped upside down, mornings spent together were oddly domestic, and he wondered if it was as much of an escape for her as it was for him.

As a boy, he'd watched his parents closely, like more closely than either of them had ever stopped to notice. Barring the actions that had taken place in the war, and the events that had led up to it, including his father's nearly unforgivable mistakes, he'd had a clear impression of what love was meant to look like.

Their marriage had been arranged, beyond their control even if they had protested it, but there was little doubt that their love for one another had run deep. As he lay there, Draco wondered when that had come to form.

He had no clear idea of how long he remained in bed, only that it was long enough for the water in Granger's bedroom to turn on.

Imagining her in the shower did him little good, and even as he tried to shove the thoughts away, he couldn't prevent a vivid image of water running down her body from entering his mind.

Draco sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the bed, and stepped into his own shower.

By the time he dried, and dressed, Granger had turned off the water, and there was a knock at his door. Really, he didn't think to properly dress before opening it, but as her eyes dropped to the towel wrapped around his waist—rather lowly, he might as well add—Draco found that he was glad he hadn't.

A pretty navy blue dress hung off of her. She kept her arms crossed tightly across her chest in order to keep it from slipping off of her.

Part of him wanted to tug her forward by her wrist, and watch the fabric pool at her feet, but not only was that a terrible idea, Draco couldn't think of a better way to end up on the wrong side of a hex. And he knew all about her spell work.

Her teeth cut into her lip, and he saw that her breathing was shallow. "I heard the water turn off a couple minutes ago. I thought you'd be dressed by now."

Fool that he was, Draco almost admitted that drying charms irritated his skin, but he didn't. "Sorry to disappoint."

Granger's eyes darkened, and mildly, he thought she wasn't disappointed at all. "Could you zip my dress?"

Lazily motioning for her to turn around for him, Draco gathered her hair and pushed it over her shoulder. It was an accident that his knuckles brushed her bare back, but when she stiffened slightly, he did it again.

This time completely, obviously, on purpose.

Granger turned to face him after he'd slowly brought the zipper into place, and smiled at him. It was a quiet sort of smile, one he'd noticed that she reserved for specific friends. Maybe it had been for him once too, but it gave him pause. "Thanks."

He swallowed. He _had_ to stop dwelling on the past. Comparing her from then and now would never get him anywhere, but she served as a constant reminder. "Pretty dress," Draco managed, and he wished—oh, how he _wished_ —his voice hadn't sounded so ragged.

He ought to have told her that she was pretty, but that wasn't enough.

Gorgeous, maybe.

Even exquisite.

So fucking alluring that all he wanted to do was pull her into him, and drown in her.

"Thank you." He lips framed the words, but he hardly heard them. "I'd tell you that you look nice too, but…" Granger motioned to him with a laugh.

The immediate arch to his brow felt so much like him that he could pretend she didn't make every bit of him come alive in an instant—unlike how anyone else ever had. "What, Granger? Do I not look _nice?_ "

Her swallow was visible, but she recovered. "Sure, you look nice in that pink, fuzzy towel."

He glanced down, and laughed with her. "Yeah, I don't think this is mine."

"It's mine. Make sure it finds its way back to me. It's such a big towel— _not right now!"_ Granger's eyes shot open.

Draco snorted. "Well, you said—"

Granger rolled her eyes. "I'm going to make some tea before we leave. Would you like any?"

_Yes, but only if we sit across from each other so I'm convinced you're actually here._

"If you don't mind," he said.

She shook her head. "Not at all. I'm making tea already, anyway."

* * *

When they arrived at the Burrow, Draco didn't curb the cursory glance to be sure that neither of Pansy's parents had shown up uninvited, just to cause a scene. As much as they probably wanted to be as far away from the affair as possible, it wouldn't have been a twist for them to leave the day in tatters out of spite, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Granger traced a line on the inside of his wrist, and pulled his gaze back to her. "I'm going to find Ron."

He nodded, and watched her push her way through the crowd of people that had taken over the sitting room until she reached the rickety staircase.

Potter bumped his hip against him. "They ought to be getting started soon."

"I'll wait for Granger." Draco said. He hadn't told her that he'd keep her seat, but surely she would assume that. "This house is going to fall apart if one more person steps inside."

Although the Burrow always looked like it was seconds from falling apart.

"Your father's coming this way, so I think I'll just go in the opposite direction. 'Mione shouldn't be long though; Molly will force Ron into his spot at the end of the aisle soon enough."

The moment his partner vanished into the crowd, his father reached him. "Did you know they've opted to combine wizarding and muggle traditions?"

"I didn't."

"It's rather interesting, but I suspect that while part of it was to appease Arthur, Pansy wanted to irritate her mother and father even further." Lucius chuckled.

Draco slid his hands into his pockets. "What do you think of that, father?"

His parents had come a long way from their previous views—and it had been anything but smooth—but sometimes, Draco still had to ask. "I think it's brilliant, quite honestly. Cassius will have a fit, of course, but that's the best part." Taking a drink from the glass clutched in his hand, his father continued, "Your mother has been looking into muggle wedding traditions as well."

 _That_ made him stop.

If his father noticed his sudden pause, and surely he did, Lucius said nothing of it. "Since Hermione is a muggleborn, she wanted to make sure that—Draco, don't stand there with your mouth open. It's unbecoming of you."

"I don't understand." Draco spluttered. "Two weeks ago, I was engaged to someone you clearly approved of, and then this—I—"

"What makes you think we don't approve of this? Your mother and I want you to be happy. Hermione Granger is a brilliant witch, and I admit it would have burned my tongue to say it not so long ago, but I've spent a long time unlearning beliefs and habits."

He knew that.

Draco knew that, but this was so far beyond the cusp of anything he'd expected.

"Once I learned of your relationship while you were still in school, I expected you would come to me at the end of the year to tell me you'd taken the ring from the vault." _The ring._

_The same bloody ring that currently looked brilliant wrapped around her finger._

"Imagine my surprise when I pieced together the two of you had broken up."

Air rushed up, heady to him, and unnoticeable to anyone else that passed them by. Draco had always wondered if either of his parents knew, but he'd never imagined asking them outright. Too eager to leave everything in the past even as he dragged himself out from under a mountain of shit that had cost a pretty galleon in therapy, he'd never stopped to consider that he could have had it all back then.

"Draco, you look ill." Lucius' fingers curled around his elbow, and his father led him outside the home.

Even with his feet solidly planted, Draco still thought he might blow over if there was a sharp gust of wind. "I left her before graduation."

His father's brows lifted. "Well, I admit I'd been curious, but it isn't my business even now."

"I didn't want to drag her down." There was no reason for him to keep going, but he couldn't _stop_. "She was going to do brilliant things, father. I lost track of how many job offers she received, apprenticeships. It was my idea to keep our relationship secret, and when I left her, she must have believed it was because I was ashamed of her."

There was a shout from inside the house.

His father lifted his chin, and exhaled. "You did that on purpose."

Silence.

And another sigh. "I'm not the one you should tell this to."

Draco knew that he ought to tell her the truth. Merlin knew she deserved it, but the aftermath of their break-up had been eye-opening. "She'll want nothing to do with me."

"Perhaps," Lucius said softly. "You made a decision on what was best for her, and I can't imagine she'll see it kindly. I love you, Draco, but do you have any idea what kind of pain you've put her through?"

He snapped, "Of course I—"

"Not to mention what you've done to yourself, or to Astoria." Lucius' voice hardened. "It'll be quite a bit of work to earn her trust again."

She _did_ trust him.

It was the damndest thing of all, that he'd managed to win over trust that she gave so freely, _twice_. He could not expect to be so lucky a third time.

"Well, I've always been a coward." Draco muttered.

"No, you aren't." Before his father could begin his next thought, the door slammed open and Granger looked guiltily at them.

With his heart jumping into his throat, Draco stared at her. _Had she heard?_

Clearly, she had not, he reasoned since there was still a curve to her mouth. "Er, pardon me, but I was hoping to talk to you."

Lucius nodded. "Of course, I was just leaving."

"Oh," her brows knitted together. "I mean you, Mr. Malfoy. I had wanted to speak with you."

Smiling pleasantly, Lucius hung back and ushered Draco off with the end of his cane, leaving no room for questions. As the door swung shut behind Draco, he considered listening through the door.

But as it was, he'd already violated her trust enough.

* * *

In the first row of seats, reserved for immediate family, and close friends, Draco waited for Hermione. She hurried down the aisle just as soft music began to thrum, and her hand brushed his.

He wished he'd threaded their fingers together.

"You were gone for a long while."

"I was with Pansy." Granger reached up to fidget with her hair—spelled into an intricate chignon—and she pulled a few strands loose to frame her face. "She was upset," she leaned forward, shifting in her seat beside him, and whispered in his ear, "It's her parents, but I think I might have helped. Who knows, I could have made it infinitely worse too."

Her breath was hot against his ear, and even though he could ignore the delicious shiver that ran down his spine as it did, Draco couldn't ignore the urge to turn his face and capture her lips with his own.

He laughed. "I don't think you could make it worse if you tried. What happened?"

"Well," she met his eyes, still leaned in, and surely she didn't realize how it would look to anyone else. "There's no one to give her away. I'm not sure if that's only a muggle tradition, but Pansy was broken up that her father wouldn't be here to walk her down the aisle."

 _Oh._ "How on earth did you fix that?"

The ceremony began, and guests rose to their feet, the two of them included.

Taller than nearly anyone in the room, Draco saw exactly how she'd managed to fix it when he spotted Pansy. Dressed in a fitting white dress that was only barely modest enough for a wedding, he noted the dress robes that went with it, and the sheer veil that covered her face.

Lucius Malfoy stood with Pansy's arm linked through his, and walked Draco's childhood best friend at her wedding.

Even from where he stood, Draco was certain his father's eyes were watering.

Kneeling down while no one was looking at them, Draco whispered to Hermione, "You've absolutely fixed it, you wonderful little witch."

She didn't look back at him, but he knew she was smiling as Hermione took a tiny step backward, her back resting against his front.

He. Was. Fucked.

* * *

While it was a wedding, and traditionally everyone couldn't keep their eyes off the bride, Draco couldn't stop looking at Granger. She was his date, technically even though he wasn't sure she'd be so willing to slap the label on it.

He tried to ignore his private streak of bitterness—and jealousy—but each look at the happy, newly married couple threatened to make his psyche spiral.

Draco _was_ happy for Pansy, and for Weasley, but it drove home a sour truth.

Granger was holding out hope for the law to be repealed. She didn't want to marry him, and he knew that was utterly and completely reasonable; they didn't know each other anymore, not really, and no amount of baking at midnight or morning talks over tea could magically change it. The fact of it was that even if the law were repealed, the couple bound together today would still be together.

It was a heady thing to admit, albeit silently, that he didn't want to go their separate ways. Not that he'd ever be able to explain it well to her. Draco could already hear it now.

_You told me you didn't want to get married. That's why you broke off your engagement, isn't it?_

How in the bloody fuck would he form a reply with soft brown eyes peeking up at him? Which he could already see how they would snap to life, anger slowly simmering when he _did_ admit the truth, if he ever managed it.

_I didn't want to marry Astoria. But apparently—I have always wanted to marry you._

Naturally, she'd question him.

Granger cleared her throat. "You're scowling." She whispered.

True enough, he could feel where the corners of his lips had been dragged down.

"You look too intimidating." Granger added. "You should relax." As if to usher that reaction on, she brushed her hand against his. "Or you could tell me what's wrong."

He certainly wasn't going to do that. "Is this a muggle tradition?" Draco lifted his chin toward Pansy. The witch had turned around, and there were several witches gathered behind her. "What is she doing?"

"Muggle women throw their bouquet at weddings, right over their head, and the woman who catches it is meant to be the next woman to be married."

"That sounds like Divination." Luckily, it worked as well as anything else to change the subject. "You loathe Divination."

Her lips parted, an irritated breath passing between them, and a bundle of flowers hit her directly in the face. Granger spluttered, coughing as she fumbled for a good grip, and he burst into laughter. Red bloomed in her cheeks and she turned on the spot to glare at Pansy.

In an instant, Draco knew she'd thrown the flowers at Granger intentionally even if he didn't know how she'd managed it. From the look on Granger's face, she assumed as much despite not seeing it for herself.

"I do loathe Divination." She lifted the bouquet, and smiled. "Besides, any witch in the room could have caught this and it would be true. We're all to be married by the beginning of June anyway, which is absurd. _Two_ months to find someone you want to have children with?" Her nose wrinkled, and he watched her mind catch up with her mouth. "Ignore that. We don't have to worry about that."

But there was a silent _yet_ tacked onto the end.

"Do you—" His father caught his eye from across the room, mouthing something indiscernible. It was undoubtedly advice, not that it did Draco much good since he couldn't read lips.

She turned the flowers in her hands again.

Draco reached up while she looked down, and closed his fingers around the pin in her hair. Carefully pulling it free—and it was no easy task with how curly her hair was, even with Sleakeazy—Draco made quick work of the multiple pins that held her hair together in complicated layers that would have impressed his mother.

"Why?" She asked, and it was expected.

Trapping a pin between his lips, Draco plucked a flower from the bundle, and tucked it into her hair while shortening the stem before pinning it in place. "I've always liked your hair down."

She was silent, and he feared he'd overstepped.

Of course he'd overstepped. _She doesn't care about what you like, you big-headed twit._

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize. It was sweet." There were eyes on them, he knew. "I'm happy to be free of those terrible hair pins. They give me awful headaches."

As was his luck, they were interrupted before he could reply.

By his own father.

_Traitor._

"Hermione, would you mind dancing?"

She looked at his father and then to him, her lips parting in a question before ultimately deciding she didn't need an answer. Sliding her hand into Lucius', Granger allowed him to lead her onto the floor.

Pansy had snuck up on him without him noticing. "You look jealous." She mused.

"Shouldn't you be with your husband?"

"Great Aunt Muriel asked for a dance. He looked to me for help, but I abandoned him to the wolves." She gave a short laugh. "I think I'll rescue him in a few minutes."

His laugh got the better of him. "It's reassuring to see that some things will never change, and no, I'm not jealous of my own father."

"Maybe you ought to be."

He turned to look down at her. "I thought you abandoned the silly crush on my father."

Pansy's smile reached her eyes. "All I'm implying is that no one could blame Granger for wanting an upgraded Malfoy. Think of the experience of an older—"

"I will _kill_ you if you finish that thought."

Laughing not so quietly, she rolled her eyes. "I'm not completely joking, but you did look broken up to see her led away."

It had probably been for the best. He was almost positive he'd been on the cusp of admitting something he shouldn't, of spilling all his thoughts, and wants.

Draco watched his father lead her around the room, watched her head fall back as she laughed at something he'd said, and realized how surreal all of it was.

_I could have always had this._

He didn't mean to say it outloud.

He'd have even sworn he hadn't, but Pansy patted his shoulder, and he knew he'd let it slip.

"You still can, if you want." Pansy whispered. "You just have to try."

* * *

Only after another half hour did he realize how desperately he wanted to have her pressed up against the curve of him while they danced.

First, she danced with Ron, and he watched with a mixed reaction of horror and humor as he learned that neither of them could lead.

Then Granger knelt down in front of a group of children as they twirled in circles and divided the flowers from the bouquet up amongst them.

He joined her and pinned flowers in each little girl's hair just as he'd done with Granger. By the time they were done, her cheeks were pink, and she could hardly pull her eyes away from him.

"For all of your surly act, you're really quite sweet, you know." Granger covered his hand with her own, warmth sneaking from her to him.

"Maybe it's just because of you." And even if he didn't mean to say it, he couldn't bring himself to want to take it back.

She stood with him, and let him lead her into the swirling couples that danced, and tilted her head to the side. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard. Because of me?"

Draco considered pointing out that he'd never been so _sweet_ with Astoria. Of course he'd been kind, but she would know that they were not wholly the same. Yet if he did admit that, it would only make him sound like an arse.

Which he was, and she probably already realized that, but she didn't need a reminder.

Maybe it was the way his father—and his mother—watched him, but he didn't bother to conceal the truth from her as his hand met the middle of her back, and they swayed together. "Silly?" Draco rumbled, and turned her, watching long curls spin with her. He brought her back to him, her chest to his, and didn't wince when she stepped on his toes and fumbled a _whoops_. "There's nothing silly about it, Hermione. You've always made me want to be a better person."

Her lips parted—and he was keenly aware of how often he noticed that particular motion.

It would have been the perfect moment to kiss her, to frame her face with his hands—calloused from his work as an auror—but it would have shattered any genuineness of the moment, he concluded.

"Even when no one else thought I could be better," Draco's lips brushed her temple, quite accidentally as he drew her in again. "And even when I didn't believe it myself, you did." The fact that he'd left her for a foolish thought that he would never have been good enough for her, that he had tried to convince her of that without telling her was on the tip of his tongue.

But then she spoke, and he was as gone as he'd ever been.

"I've always believed in you. I still do, Draco." Her fingers pressed into his shoulders, warm and solid. "Our relationship fell apart, but no matter what, that's always been true."

_Fell apart._

_What if I could put the pieces back together?_


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own, but this has been lovingly read by mcal, who I adore.

* * *

It didn't take long for his mother to pop in unexpectedly. In fact, Pansy and Weasley had only been gone for two days—out of a four day trip—when Narcissa Malfoy swept into the flat like she owned it. With her robes fluttering at her heels, she glided into the kitchen from the sitting room, magazines upon magazines bundled up in her arms.

He could hardly see his mother's face from behind it all, and where he sat perfectly confused, Granger didn't seem to be surprised in the least.

"Let me help you." Hermione levitated all of it at once, stacking neatly on the table with each dip of her wand. "This is an awful lot to carry."

Narcissa righted her robes, smoothing out any wrinkle that was there and sighed. "Normally I wouldn't have carried it, but the muggle shop I visited didn't have a bag to give me. Since I knew I'd be coming straight here, I thought I would just—"

Draco's mouth dropped open. His father had mentioned how his mother was trying her absolute best to be tolerant, but a _muggle shop?_ "I didn't realize you would be here today."

"It slipped my mind," Granger said. "Your mother insisted I let her start planning a.." There was a slight furrow to her brows, but he knew exactly where the conversation was going without her needing to say an extra word.

"There isn't very long to plan a wedding." Narcissa recovered from the awkward silence that dropped over them, and sat at the end of the table. "With all of the weddings there are about to be, I think the two of you might like to wait for the ceremony."

Sliding his fingers against the slightly warm surface of his cup, Draco wasn't sure what to make of that. "Mother, we only have five weeks." With each passing day, it seemed less and less likely the decision would be reversed, however. The Ministry had already made a statement on the matter, and it was that they would need at least eighteen months— _a bare minimum_ , the spokesperson had said—so the facts of it were rather clear.

For all her joking, she really would have to decide if she wanted to hyphenate her last name soon.

On some purely territorial level, Draco found himself wishing she didn't, but that was absurd and he never lingered on the thought.

"You have to be bound to one another in five weeks, yes." His mother laced her fingers together over the table. "There's going to be a public ceremony though, of course, for those closest to you."

Granger looked ill. "I see."

"For now though, it won't be difficult to arrange a small binding ceremony with immediate family. An intimate gathering, however you wish."

He watched her, and Hermione's fingers tightened on the edge of the table at the word _intimate._ "Mother, I'm not sure that's what Granger wants."

Narcissa apologized. "My apologies, Hermione."

"No, it's fine." She swallowed. "You must be excited to plan your son's wedding, and with how this has turned out—"

It was a bit awkward, but Draco squeezed her knee under the table. "Don't."

"I just mean," she carried on anyway. "You had already planned an entire wedding, and I imagine it was perfect in your eyes, and she—" Granger squeezed her eyes shut, and he knew she hadn't meant to mention Astoria at all.

But she'd been thinking about it.

"It wasn't perfect." His mother's face softened. "My son wasn't happy, and now he is."

He went rigid as Hermione looked at him, but Draco didn't deny it, and she would notice that.

"What would you like?"

Granger's knee bounced under his hand when his mother asked, and he rubbed circles through the fabric of her jeans.

"I assumed we would get married at the Ministry if we—"

His mother's outburst sounded more like a screech, and Granger's knee slammed into the underside of the table, his hand tragically trapped.

* * *

He hadn't been interested in the process of planning a wedding with Astoria, and he knew that it made him terrible. It shouldn't have been different now, but where he previously would have rather sunk into the floor, he could barely pull his eyes away from the witch sitting across from his mother.

Stubborn curls dropped into her face until she tucked it behind her ear with thinly veiled irritation. She bit her lower lip, trapping it between her teeth when she pointed something out.

Mother noticed, with those eyes that seemed to drink in every detail. He could tell by the subtle twitch of her lips, and when she looked at him, tilting her head toward the witch in question while she wasn't paying attention.

It seemed that everyone knew just what he was thinking, save for her, and really, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

* * *

It was his mother who steered the conversation away from wedding plans—as content as she was to make them—when she commented that he'd been home more often recently.

"What do you mean?" Granger looked at him.

He would admit to her, privately, that he'd been avoiding Astoria for far longer than he'd admitted, but not his mother. "Yes, Mother. Neither Potter, or myself have wanted to take extended missions right now. He's still searching for a witch himself, in case you've forgotten the deadline looming over all of us."

The ploy worked to distract one of them, but it didn't distract Granger for nearly long enough.

Fortunately, his mother took pity on him and let it go. "Draco mentioned that you weren't planning to return to work for some time, and I thought you might like something to fill your spare time."

_Please don't talk about heirs. Please for the love of fuck, don't talk about kids._

"Lucius and I started funding for an orphanage after the war," His mother continued, her voice breezy. "We both spend a bulk of our time there, and perhaps you would like to visit?"

Granger's hesitation flickered across her face, and he knew it was due to the sudden presence of _both_ of his parents that would come with a visit. But then it was gone just as quickly as it had come, and she smiled. "I'd like that very much."

* * *

He truly meant to go with her to the orphanage, even if only to serve as a buffer between Granger and his father. Lucius meant well, but there were unsavory parts of the past embedded in Granger's mind, and some things weren't forgiven so easily.

Potter reassured him that it would be fine. "Or it won't be," he commented as they both took hold of the portkey. "And Hermione will hex him, but I doubt that. He's been polite enough, hasn't he?"

"That's what I'm worried about." Wind ripped past them, and while he didn't actually want to carry on a conversation while traveling, he did anyway. "Father's nosy."

Wire framed glasses slipped down the bridge of Potter's nose, and his eyes widened behind the scratched lenses. "What do you mean?"

"I'm worried he's going to tell her something she's not supposed to know." It wasn't an unfounded concern. His father had an awfully nasty habit—one he'd never even tried to curb—of making things worse while trying to make them better.

"Like?"

"He might bloody tell her the reason I broke up with her in Hogwarts." He snapped, and they landed in a mostly empty room inside the British Ministry. At least the words had been out of his mouth before they landed. "He'll think he's helping me."

Pushing his glasses up his nose, and flattening his hair even though it wouldn't stay that way, Potter sighed. "It would be bad for her to hear it from him, but don't you think she deserves to hear it from you?"

She did. He knew she did.

That she'd deserved it since the thought crossed his mind after she broke the record for the most NEWTs, and job offers had begun to pour in.

"I'm working on it." Draco said quietly. "I don't want her to try fleeing the country again. The Ministry won't be so lax if she does."

"If you tell her on your own, she'll think you're an idiot." Potter shrugged. "That'll be nothing new."

The conversation was hushed as they reached the lift, stepped inside, and began the ride toward the atrium. "Is this your way of making me feel better? If so, you're doing a bang up job of it."

Harry snorted. "All I'm saying is that if you tell her now, she'll just think you've fucked up. If she finds out any other way, she's only going to be angrier. More important than that, it'll crush her. I don't want to admit it because your head is already big enough, but she's happy."

Silence.

"Draco, she's so fucking happy that I don't understand it. She told me how you tried to use her mixer, that you threw yourself on the floor so it didn't break."

He hadn't considered anything beyond her being angry, and leaving.

He hadn't considered the fact that it would hurt her for a second time.

They reached the bottom floor and the lift dinged. "She's happy with you, for whatever reason, and if you hurt her, it's going to end before it gets started."

Potter left him with that.

* * *

He went straight to her.

Covered in sweat still, and grime from a trek in the Forest of Dean, Draco went straight to her.

She met him at the edge of the grounds, spotting him as the crack of apparition vibrated the air, and he spotted grass stains on her jeans before she made it to him. Her hair was tied back loosely, strands escaping as they always were, and Granger came to stand in front of him.

"Are you alright?"

One of them was always asking that.

Draco swallowed, and cupped the back of his neck. "Just exhausted." It was true—even if only half of it—because he _was_ tired.

Just not in the way she thought.

"You should go home, and get some sleep. It looks like you haven't slept since you left."

"I haven't. It was a long two days." He wanted to tell her that she'd been all he could think about while he'd been there.

He didn't, of course.

There was dirt all over both of her hands, but there was the ring he'd placed on her finger utterly free of it. She followed his gaze, and he wondered if the red that rose in her face was a figment of his imagination. "It's a charm," Granger told him. "To keep in clean. I was gardening, actually, with some of the children. I didn't want to take it off," silence followed and she quickly added, "in case I lost it."

Draco nodded, nearly saying he didn't want her to take it off at all, but it would have been silly. He'd come here to say something else entirely.

"What were you doing? If you're able to tell me."

Technically, he shouldn't, but she was his fiance—and the thought made his stomach twist—and he wanted to tell her anything she asked. "There were reports of dark magic being cast inside the Forest of Dean."

"Did you catch them?"

He nodded.

"Were you hurt?"

"Stray hex," he breathed. "It wasn't a major injury. Nothing a potion won't fix."

"That's good."

Someone called her name from just outside the building, and he could recognize his father.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle. "It's going to storm. If you'd like to join us, it's about to be story time."

As if he could have told her no. "Granger, wait," Draco's fingers curled around her wrist and he tugged her backward. "We dated, and when I left you, I never told you why."

Her face fell, but only slightly. "No, you didn't."

"It wasn't a good reason."

Granger tucked her hand into his. "Oh, I know that." She laughed lightly. "Come on, don't talk about it right now. It will come out when it needs to."

"Don't leave when it does."

Her back was to him, and she froze.

"I don't want you to leave." He said and found his voice was stronger that time.

She looked at him, at the very least, but it didn't escape him that Granger made no such promise, and he regretted that he'd ever tried to ask her to do so.

The uneasiness that followed was chipped away bit by bit as he watched her read a children's book aloud, after following her inside, to a cluster of children at her feet.

Granger used different voices, different facial expressions, and there wasn't a single child who could look away from her.

"They love her." Draco murmured to his father.

Lucius nodded. "From the looks of it, she's quite easy to love."

It had been, without a doubt, the easiest thing he'd ever done.

* * *

The day had started easily.

Potter hadn't come in that day, apparently nauseous and vomiting—which was more information that Draco cared to know.

He'd patrolled Diagon Alley with Weasley early that morning, as the sun was just beginning to rise and the world began to whir to life as it opened. Draco had returned to his ministry office alone when Ron said he was going to drop by the flat to see Hermione.

After all, he'd barely been back for a couple of days, and work alone had kept him busy. He'd probably take her to breakfast, Weasley said.

" _As long as you're back in time to help me deal with patrols this afternoon." Draco had said._

Easy.

There hadn't been a single thing to tell him it was all about to go to shit. Unless, of course, you counted the owl from Pansy that he had stupidly thrown into his desk drawer, content to open it after sorting through the paperwork he had, and Potter's.

The paperwork his partner had promised to do _tomorrow._

And now he was sick. Typical.

Nearly exactly thirty-three minutes after the owl had arrived, his door slammed open.

Pansy's eyes narrowed on him, her face red and her fists clenched at her side. "Have you forgotten how to respond to an owl?"

He laid his quill down, and ink smudged under his sleeve. "I'm fairly certain you've never fully grasped the concept, but some of us do have to work during the day."

Her brows lifted nearly to her hair line, and Pansy exhaled while pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well, typically when someone has _urgent_ news, they send an owl." Each word was accented with another step forward until she braced her hands against the edge of his desk and leaned toward him. "For your sake, I hope you've already told her about the article."

Quite suddenly, Draco could feel the color drain from his face, and she took that as an answer. It didn't help that his mouth dropped open, giving him away entirely. "I hadn't heard anything—" he managed, but only barely. _Days_ had passed without the other shoe dropping, and he'd, well, he'd assumed that the universe might have thrown him a bone.

But with Pansy glaring at him, irritation hardly contained as she tapped her fingers against the edge of his desk, he knew that had been a completely foolish thing to hope for.

"I thought Vane had decided against running the article."

"She did, and I think that has more to do with a visit from your father than you—" he hadn't heard anything about that "but it doesn't fucking matter! Tori went to Rita Skeeter, and she didn't waste any time publishing it."

The taste in his mouth unmistakably vile, Draco croaked, "When?"

"This morning. It's already run. With any luck, she'll still be at home—"

He shook his head. "Ron went to see her and take her to breakfast an hour ago. She's _not_ home." Draco shot out of his seat, and threw the door open when he reached it, Pansy close on his heels. "Bloody buggering fuck—I'm an _idiot_."

She chimed in agreement, which wasn't helpful in the slightest.

If his quick departure had drawn the attention of fellow aurors, Draco hadn't stopped to notice, but the lift door sliding open, however, wasn't something he could miss.

Weasley's wand was gripped in his right hand, his knuckles white, and his jaw was clenched so tightly it had to ache. With one arm wrapped around the shorter witch at his side, Ron's eyes connected with Draco's, and his scowl deepened.

She lifted her head out of her hand—and Draco saw her fingers were shaking—and Pansy hissed a curse.

While he realized it was only a thin cut above her eyebrow, and those wounds bleed more than others, Draco felt the sickening lurch of his stomach. He'd closed the gap between them before Granger noticed him, and when she did, it didn't make her mood any better.

"I'm so sorry," he blurted. Draco bent his legs, crouching down to frame her face in his hands as he tilted her head up. She could take care of herself, but he hoped she'd allow him this. "Who did this to you?"

Granger ignored the question. "You're sorry? This isn't your fault."

"Either you'll tell her, or I will." Weasley snarled. "I told you," he looked to his wife "that we couldn't expect him to bloody tell her."

She took a unintentional step away from him, or maybe it was intentional. Draco didn't move. Didn't step forward.

Definitely didn't wrap her up in his arms like he wanted to.

Sharp as ever, Granger pieced it together on the spot, but it wasn't as if there had been many pieces to work with. "Did you know?"

"I was trying to stop it." That didn't make it better. "I didn't want to upset you." Neither did that.

Her nostrils flared. "We are _engaged_!" An outburst was not her normal reaction, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility for her either, and he hadn't expected for the entire floor to hear it. "I don't need you to protect me."

"I know."

Granger leaned forward, eyes watering, and the sight cut through him. "When you asked me if we could get back to how we were, I thought you realized I have never wanted someone who tries to _protect_ me," she spat. "I wanted my best friend, maybe even a partner some day."

Pansy stepped in front of him. "Can I take you to ours? You'll be able to clear your head if you like."

He didn't expect Granger to say yes, but she did, and he was left with Ron Weasley's withering glare.

An hour later, Robards called for training instead of their typical rounds, and Draco suspected Weasley had everything to do with it while dodging his offensive spells.

* * *

She was sitting on the sofa, her cat curled in her lap, when he arrived. Granger didn't look at him when he entered the room, content to stroke the top of Crooks' head and read the book cracked open on the armrest.

For ten minutes, he pretended not to watch her, his voice trapped in his throat, and she didn't turn a single page.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded and when she did finally choose to say something—which felt like it had taken forever—Granger still didn't look up at him. "I know you are, but aren't you really just sorry I found out at all?"

He had nothing worth saying.

"Pansy explained to me that she'd told you just before she apologized to me for not telling me herself. She thought it wouldn't be right if it came from a stranger." Granger smoothed her hand down Crooks' back. "I realize you must have believed you were doing me a favor after I spent most of the month holed up in this flat, hiding away."

Draco admitted he was wrong, which he was often, but he didn't voice the second part.

"It was inevitable that the truth came out, Draco. It always does. I don't care that the world knows about us, or the article about me."

The things Skeeter had said—the quotes directly from Astoria—all painted Granger as a vindictive witch.

"None of them are true."

She nodded, and lifted her head, resting her cheek in her hand. "Of course they're not, and that will come out too. I waited because I want to make absolutely sure that you know why I'm angry. It's not because Astoria called me a home-wrecking whore, or that a stranger called me a Mudblood in the street today, or even that another man hurled a fork at me in Diagon Alley. _You_ hurt me."

He curled his hands into fists.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I was too unstable for you to be honest with me, but you lied to me. Maybe it's against my better judgment, but I've trusted you."

"I'll find some way to make this up to you."

Hermione patted Crooks, nudging him off of her, and she stood. "All you have to do is not lie to me. It's all I'm asking." She pulled a slip of parchment from the counter and crossed the room, holding it out to him. "I've scheduled my health screening at the Ministry."

Her eyes were watering again. God, he'd fucked up.

"Since we'll be bound at the end of the month, it's mandatory for both of us. You ought to contact them soon. They asked me if I wanted to schedule yours, but I didn't want to overstep."

He nodded. "Do I need to be there for yours?"

Granger's expression didn't change. "If you'd like to be." She left the card with her appointment date scribbled on it, and her bedroom door opened and closed.

Draco sat there for a long time, turning the card over in his hands.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all doing well out there! Thanks for reading this little story and leaving your thoughts. I have up to chapter seventeen pre-written, and am taking some time to develop some other hobbies while working away at this. (Midnight Valkyrie and I are starting a true crime podcast and I've started serious work on an original novel!) So for now, we will stay at weekly uploads, likely on Sundays.
> 
> Interact with me on tumblr at mrsren, AO3 or message me on FFN! Stay safe, friends.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday. This has not been edited beyond me, but has been lovingly read by mcal. 

* * *

Granger often wasn't home after that.

Perhaps she'd had enough of hiding—and she'd said as much herself before he'd gone and made her angry—or perhaps it was thanks to a surprising friendship that she'd struck up with Pansy, or more likely, maybe she was avoiding him.

It wasn't a difficult thing to do since he often left before she ever woke up, and the Ministry had kept them busy in the past few days. Still, he left a charm cast on the muggle coffee maker she was so fond of, and he knew it began to brew whenever she woke up. He hoped a token of his apology would matter to her, but he'd yet to see proof of that.

He'd meant to go to her appointment at St Mungos.

Managing to work up the nerve to show his face around her—especially in a situation that could only remind her of how her life was ripped out of her hands—had taken several days. He wouldn't have admitted that to her though, for fear that it would be him to dredge the subject up again.

On Thursday morning, he'd bumped into her in the waking hours, for the first time in a handful of days. Her hair was tucked into a loose plait, and it was clear she'd slept in it by the frizzy strands that attempted to escape. The moment she sensed his presence behind her was visible, and his stomach dropped when her fingers tightened around her mug.

While there hadn't been a full smile curving her lips, whatever mirth had been there vanished altogether, and he swallowed.

Moving past her, Draco reached into the cupboard for another cup. He didn't mean to bump into her, but Crooks had snuck under him, bushy tail swishing in all its glory and the feel of it under his foot caused him to stumble directly into her. "Sorry."

Granger shrugged, and sipped her coffee. She'd painted her nails a pale pink, and he noted there was a smudge at the end of one of her nails. Dressed in a worn pair of shorts and a thin top, she would have looked entirely at ease if it weren't for the dark circles forming under her eyes.

"Have you slept?"

She shook her head. "My appointment is this afternoon. I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, yes, I was rather nervous before mine as well." He offered. "It will be alright, Granger. I'm sure you'll be out of there quickly. Just a few tests."

Granger murmured something he couldn't catch under her breath. "I doubt that. Nothing will ever be simple. Did they say anything noteworthy in your appointment?"

"No, they gave me a clean bill of health." He wasn't sure why he added the next part, but surely they would ask her the same thing. "The healer asked me if I would like to use potions during our—"

She followed him as he trailed off, and even in the dim light of their kitchen, he could spot color rising to her skin. "Ah, I see."

They had never discussed the fact that they would need to sleep together; it just always been a given. The point of this was to procreate.

Too often—before he remembered the circumstances they were in, and how terrible it would be to romanticize them—Draco had wondered if her body would fit against his like it once had.

Or if it would be better now that they had grown up.

"What did you say?" She bit into her lower lip, and it was flushed. No doubt she had been chewing on it in her own fit of nerves.

"I said no." Draco schooled his features while turning away from her and filling his cup. "I don't want to—not while I'm inebriated, but if you needed—"

Granger shook her head quickly. "No, no, I don't want to lose what control I do have after they've already taken so much."

It struck him low in his gut, and Draco sighed. "I'm sorry. If there were any other way…"

The smile she gave him was weak, barely there really, but she smiled at him anyway, and shook her head. "It's not your fault, and I suppose if it has to be anyone, I can't complain that it's you."

Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that.

"I appreciate your concern as well, and your thoughtfulness as to whether I needed a potion, I mean."

Of course that'd been what she had meant.

Granger tucked a curl behind her ear. "Will you be at my appointment this afternoon?"

"Yes, I'll slip away and meet you there."

* * *

He'd meant to meet her there. Honestly, he'd had every intention of slipping away in the middle of the afternoon—and possibly sticking Potter with the paperwork he should have already finished—to Apparate to St Mungos and meet her in the lobby.

It just hadn't worked out that way.

As was his bitter luck, any time he made plans, his work day went tits up. Beginning with a brawl in Knockturn Alley in the middle of an apothecary, Draco wished he hadn't come in at all. While Potter interviewed witnesses, and the two wizards that had ripped into one another, Draco spoke with the shop owner to catalog damaged merchandise.

Then he'd stepped into the back room of the shop and spotted not one, or two, or even fucking _three_ , but dozens of boxes that contained illegal potions. After arresting the owner, and shutting down the establishment, they had been able to return to their comfortable office, and he wished he'd gotten to stay there.

Weasley popped his head into the office ten minutes before Draco planned to leave, and his features were set in a grimace. "Oi, Robards got a report that there's been an influx of dark magic used in Wiltshire. Sounds serious, and he's asking for volunteers. Either of you want to go?"

"Are you going?" Harry pushed his glasses up his nose.

He shook his head. "Can't. I was already on my way out to meet Pansy for lunch. Besides, Robards only asked me to see if you could go. Said he'd send Boot and Goldstein if you didn't."

At the time, Draco hadn't realized the bad decision he'd been making, or how similar it was to what he'd done to Astoria. He hadn't noticed the annoyed look to cross over Potter's face either. "I'll go." Draco pushed away from his desk.

"Are you sure?" Potter's voice caused him to pause in the doorway, where he could see that Weasley had already gone. "I thought you were meeting 'Mione."

"She wouldn't want me to be there anyway," Draco's fingers curled around the doorway, and he shifted his weight. "Besides, it's a regular appointment, nothing she'd need me for."

He hadn't given Potter a chance to finish his sentence.

* * *

Granger sat on the sofa, a pillow held securely in her lap, and tears stained her cheeks. It was obvious that she'd been waiting for him, and his heart gave a hard thud, and he wasn't sure what to say at all.

"Why didn't you come?"

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"I thought you wouldn't want me to come, and I thought since it was a regular appointment…" Only that couldn't have been true. Something was wrong, or she wouldn't have been openly sobbing on the sofa while hiccuping with every other breath. "I chose to go on an assignment right before I should have left."

Granger's fingers dug into the plush of the pillow she squeezed and he realized she'd already known that. "Harry told me."

His teeth ground together.

"I know that you would take assignments to get away from Astoria." A wheezing breath pushed past her lips, and he noticed that the pink polish that had previously coated her nails had been chipped away. It seemed she'd bitten her nails down to nubs, and he imagined that had happened while she waited.

While he'd finished paperwork in his office and while he'd helped a fellow auror when he should have come home.

"If that's what you were doing today, I think I deserve to know."

"I wasn't," Draco croaked. His fingers curled into fists where his hands rested in his pockets, and he drew a slow breath. "I avoided meeting you because I believed you didn't want me there."

She nodded.

"But it wasn't because _I_ didn't want to be there."

Granger laced her fingers together. Then pulled them apart. Then joined them again. She fidgeted in her seat, and her lower lip wobbled. "I don't want to blame you since I've not been the best at communicating, but I needed someone to go with me today. Pansy offered, but I wanted—well, I wanted you."

His stomach dropped, and he thought the guilt might make him sick. "I didn't know."

Another nod.

"What happened?" Draco joined her, sitting perhaps too closely, and untangled her fingers before taking her hand in his. "Granger, come on."

"I've assumed this for a long time—healers have already hinted at it during annual physicals—but due to curse damage, it's a slim chance that I'll be able to have children." She squeezed his hand.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Is that all?" The words hadn't sounded so callous in his mind, but he caught up, and recovered as her eyes narrowed. "I just meant that you told me once how you didn't want to—"

She ripped her hand away. "If you can recall, I said I wasn't sure, but that I knew I wouldn't want to have children immediately after graduation." Granger exhaled harshly. "And in case it's gone right over your head, opinions change over the years, and yes, I _would_ like to have a family. If I could bloody have one!"

"I'm sorry, I—"

Granger stood. "I'm going to clear my head."

"You're _leaving_? Shouldn't we talk about this?" He followed her, right on her heels as she moved toward her room. "I know that I fucked up, but—"

She pushed past him with her eyes still watering, and second after, he listened to the Floo activate.

Draco stayed in the corridor, his forehead pressed to the wall just to the right of her bedroom door, for several moments.

He didn't go after her.

* * *

Granger came back before he went to bed, and Draco wasn't sure if her voice calling out for him was a relief, or the reason his heart lurched in his chest. Probably a combination of both if he were honest. He could have pretended to be asleep—and whether or not she believed it, she'd have left him alone—but Draco exited his room. He met her in the sitting room, and saw that she held a batch of green powder in her hand.

Her eyes were red, and puffy.

"I thought you wouldn't come back for at least a day." Draco pushed his hands into his pockets, as far as they'd go, and rocked back on his heels. It sounded like the wrong thing to say, but clearly he had no idea what the _right_ thing to say was.

Her nod was a short, jerked motion, and from where he stood, he could see the quiver of her lower lip. "I came back because I have something I need to tell you."

Draco remained silent.

"Pansy thought I should wait until tomorrow, but I know that if I do, I'll let this pass because I've grown comfortable—"

His eyes widened.

"And it wouldn't be fair to either of us." Granules of powder slipped through the cracks of her fingers until she sighed, and dumped it into the dish. "I think you should go back to Astoria."

He snorted loudly and ignored the way her brows shot into her hairline. "Merlin, are we back to this? I thought we were past this, Granger. I don't want to marry Astoria, and while this probably makes me a terrible person, I never _wanted_ to marry her."

"You're better off going back to your posh, comfy lifestyle so you can have your ridiculous, little blonde heirs." She swayed on her feet, arms wrapped around her middle, and lifted her chin as if to dare him to correct her.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Draco shook his head. "I don't even want kids right now, Granger and _if_ I did, it certainly wouldn't be with her." He'd imagined it, having children with Astoria, and while surely— _surely_ —she would make someone happy, it wouldn't be him.

The declaration, as obvious as it must have been, didn't stop her though. "I'm going to the Ministry to see if what can be done to exempt me from the law since I'm infertile. Well," she muttered. "I'll know beyond a doubt by the end of the week."

"I don't bloody care if we never have children, or if we have litters." Draco stalked toward her, hands flexing at his sides. He towered over her, and she lifted her chin, a smirk pulling at the edge of her lips.

God, she really was so insufferable at times.

"I want _you_ in any way I can."

He expected it to be more terrifying, more jarring to have the truth out there than it was. In fact, Draco had imagined that it would make him sick, but surely she'd already known it on some level. That all of this had always been for her—in some way, he had to admit that it was about him, and his own wants.

She blinked and her lips parted as she tilted her head up. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Hermione breathed in, and he saw the way her shoulders shook. "You're holding onto memories that are long gone, Draco. Let go."

"You daft cow." He growled.

"We're adults, Draco. I agree that repairing our friendship was the right thing to do, but you can't expect me to believe that you're—that you've held…" Hermione trailed off.

Perhaps it was the hard look about him, or his clenched jaw.

Maybe she could see how desperately he wanted to pull her into him and commit every curve to memory.

"I didn't deserve you, then," he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. "Ever since, I've been certain that sabotaging our relationship was the most foolish thing I've ever done, barring other significant events." But this wasn't about the vanishing cabinet, or his regrets of Easter. It was about her, just like always.

"Sabotaged?" Her voice was hoarse. She tapped her fingers against her arms, and looked away from him, but it didn't last. "I always thought it didn't make sense. I didn't think about it objectively in those weeks that followed, but we were happy." Each word was slow to come. "We were kids though, and I assumed that you wanted to end it, so you did it in the only way you knew how."

Cruelty was not unknown to him.

"It's time for you to be honest," she sighed. "Clearly, the guilt is eating you alive even when it's been so long."

It was the skeptical tone she took acted as the final push, and he willed himself to break open. "I wonder, if I hadn't been such a fool, where we would be now. From the moment you came here, I've wondered if this would have been our life together."

By the way she slumped slightly against the sofa, she'd wondered the same thing.

"I never thought I was deserving of you."

"I'm not an object to be had." He knew she'd say that. She'd said it before too. "This isn't a surprise to me, Draco. Time went on, and it was the only reason that made sense. I still believe it's ridiculous, and I'm still angry that you hurt me, but it's nothing I can't forgive. I don't understand why you've jumped into this opportunity, however. Is it because you wanted to play house with me, because you needed to see what _life with me_ would have been like?"

He didn't so much as move when she closed the gap between them, peering up at him through thick lashes, or even as she jabbed her finger into his sternum. "Whether you'd like to admit it, I would have dragged you down. You would have taken it though, and you would have used up all the righteous energy you keep bottled up to defend me."

"It would have been my decision to make."

"It wasn't one I wanted you to make."

She swallowed. "Did you ever consider what I wanted? Even once?"

As much as he wanted to say he had done it with her in mind, Draco stomped the lie. He'd done it for himself. There could be no confusing the two. "I went through therapy after graduation. It's required by the Ministry when you enter the auror program before you can be approved for active duty." He was floundering in an attempt to make himself look like less of an arsehole, but she already knew the process. "When the Ministry announced this, all I could think about was you, and I wondered if now, if I were given another chance, I would be—"

Granger's lips part in the same moment that her eyes widen. "So, you believe that now, since you feel worthy of me," she spat "that you might as well give it a go as if I've been waiting for just that? You can't be serious."

Now that it's out there, Draco has to admit it does sound ridiculous. All he can do is splutter over _I'm sorry_ and _I know I fucked up_ and _if you can—_ but he doesn't get through the last part, which was probably for the best since he had no idea what he possibly could have said to make this any better.

"This is…" she cast her eyes to the ceiling and a sigh bubbled up on her lips. "It's a lot to take in at once. If I say anything right now, it will be rash and I would like some time to think."

"Will you at least stay this time?"

Granger nodded, and slipped past him. "I shouldn't have reacted so quickly, and I got quite a shock when I popped into Harry's uninvited."

It sounded like a story, but it would have to wait.

* * *

"How are you going to fix it this time?" Weasley's drawn out sigh grated him, and Draco shot him an obscene gesture. "You mean to tell me that secretly still being in love with her, and making decisions without her input _didn't_ go over well? Fucking shocker."

He was going to hex Weasley. Maybe he ought to stick him to a wall on the south side of the Ministry in the stairwell no one frequented due to the sixteenth century ghost that raved about _better times_. "You're enjoying this too much."

"A bit, yeah." Ron leaned against the edge of the desk. "I do wonder how you're going to fix it though. 'Mione feels awful for storming out on you even though I thought you deserved it."

"Thanks."

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Ron muttered, "I forget that you don't know her like I do. You probably couldn't have known the hole you were digging. A pit, really."

"Your encouragement and support is humbling."

He flashed a smile. "I try." Weasley picked up the photograph of Narcissa and swallowed. "You're still in love with her then."

There was a difference between thinking it, and hearing it.

There was even a difference between knowing it and hearing it.

Draco didn't reply, only sifted through the stack of parchment on his desk. He was positive at least half of it belonged to Potter. "Have you seen—"

"Come on, Malfoy." Ron cut in. "I don't care about a case right now and neither do you. Have you always known that you—"

With a sharp movement of his wrist, Draco's wand twisted through the air and the door slammed shut. "It may have escaped you, but I'd rather not talk about this when anyone could overhear."

"Oh, yes, it'll be such a scandal if the world finds out you're in love with your fiance." He rolled his eyes and kicked his leg up on the desk, knocking over another photo. "Well, I suppose you were just engaged. That might be a problem."

"You don't bloody say."

The silence that followed only lasted long enough for Draco to believe that it might continue. "I want to look out for her—for you too, mate—but I've gotta ask if it's true."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, yes it's true. Are you happy now?"

"Positively giddy."

"Fucking wanker," Draco muttered. "Don't you have a job to do rather than playing therapist?"

Tapping his fingers against his chin, Weasley's eyes brightened. "Therapist, that's a novel idea. You know, if you say that you love her outloud, maybe you'll feel better."

He sincerely doubted that. "If I were to say it out loud, it would be to _her._ Certainly not to you."

"What's wrong with me—are you getting a quill?"

Draco used the better part of his lunch break to comprise a list of what was wrong with Ron Weasley.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story isn't heavy on the drama, so things will resolve relatively quickly if you're worried about that. If that's not your cup of tea, I'm sorry! Have a good week. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning (from me anyway)! I know this chapter is a tiny bit delayed, but I think you'll be satisfied anyway. This chapter has not been edited beyond me, but has been lovingly read by mcal. I hope you enjoy it! I'd love to hear what you think.

* * *

He'd fucked up.

Granger's anger had softened in the days following the late night conversation, but he made no mistake. She was still cross with him, and he couldn't blame her for it. Every time he thought about it, he'd wince.

He should not have alluded to the belief that maybe _now_ he was enough for her, even though it had crossed Draco's mind several times over the years. In fact, she was the last witch he could imagine taking that statement well. And she hadn't taken it well.

They sat together sometimes in the mornings. She clutched a cup in her hands and read whatever novel she'd landed on that particular day. Two days earlier, he'd stumbled into the kitchen to the scent of coffee and the Daily Prophet had been clutched in her hands.

Today was the same. She lifted her eyes to glance at him, a precursory before returning to the newspaper. Steam wafted from the cup of tea to her right, and Granger didn't look at him again as she spoke. "I started brewing it about ten minutes ago. It should be done soon."

Fuck him, he did not deserve the thougtfulness she willingly gave.

"Thank you."

Her fingers tightened on the paper, crinkling as she laid it down. "Do you think I would enjoy working in an apothecary?"

Sliding into the seat across from her, he threaded his fingers together while bouncing a knee under the table. "I doubt you would ever be bored."

"But that isn't what I asked. Do you think I would enjoy it?"

The sun hadn't broken the horizon yet. He'd always woken early, a habit not often shared with anyone he was close to.

It was the best part of the day since Granger mirrored him in exactly that.

"Would you be brewing?"

With her teeth cutting into her lower lip, she shook her head.

"Then no, I can't imagine it would be interesting enough for you."

She let the paper fall with a sigh. "I know, but nearly every job listing is for some sort of sales witch, and I can't stand the fact that I'm not doing anything at all."

"If you send out inquiries, I'm sure you'll be flooded with offers, Granger. Everyone in the country will be scrambling to snatch you up." He rose from his seat and poured himself a cup.

Granger was still gnawing her lip when he sat back down. "You're overestimating that. Due to my involvement with this law, I'm not quite the" —her lip curled— " _commodity_ I was before."

"There are several private companies that do work similar to Unspeakables. If that was what you enjoyed…" Draco paused. "Theo's inherited a large chunk of one of them actually. If it would interest you, perhaps a meeting with him would open new doors."

"I may owl him, but I'm not sure I want to continue in that field."

"No one could blame you if you didn't."

The corner of her lip twitched. "I have received an offer, however."

Draco's eyebrows lifted.

Running her nail along a line in the wood, she nodded at the words he didn't say. "It's something I wanted to discuss with you, actually, but recently—" Granger cleared her throat. "There hasn't been a good time is all."

"I'm all yours now." He remarked from over the rim of his cup before tipping it backward.

"Lucius asked me to assist in running the orphanage. Organizing books while overseeing daily care alongside others employed there."

His fingers nearly loosened from the handle of his mug. Father certainly hadn't mentioned it to him at any point. "Really." It wasn't a question, just a statement. "Have you given it any thought?"

Granger folded her arms and leaned forward. "I think I'll take his offer, but that's not all of what I'd like to discuss." She waited for him to respond and continued when he didn't. "I've appealed to the Ministry to be exempted from the law on the grounds I may be infertile."

He did drop the mug.

It shattered and she flinched.

"You— _Granger,_ please—" Draco rasped.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Please let me finish, Draco."

That was a hard thing to do when instantly he wanted to plead with her until she agreed.

"I hadn't calmed down when I submitted a formal request." Granger stood, and pulled her chair to where she could sit next to him. Her hand was warm over his, and he turned his over to join their fingers together. "Admittedly, you didn't know I would be upset over not being able to have children. It's not as though I ever told you and I'm sorry for the overreaction."

He wasn't sure where this was going, but she squeezed his hand.

"I was angry, and now I wish I hadn't submitted it at all. However, it can't be taken back. Since the point of this law is to—"

Draco scowled. "No one is going to make you leave unless you want to."

"You can't possibly promise that."

"I can."

Her eyes widened a fraction. "If you're planning to bribe someone, then I don't think—"

"Tell me you want to leave then."

She couldn't answer him directly. "You've done so much for your family and your reputation."

"I don't care. Tell me, do you want to leave?"

Granger dropped her gaze to the floor and visibly shivered when he curled a finger under her chin, lifting her head. "I don't want to leave."

It was enough for him.

"I know that you said, well you _insinuated_ , but my feelings aren't," _I'm not in love with you_ , she meant to say.

Three words swelled in his chest, and he swallowed hard. "That doesn't matter right now. All that matters is that I'm not going to let anyone take you unless it's what you want."

"I just want to say that I may not feel—" Whether it was conscious or not, she leaned forward. "It's just that it's possible in the future—and I didn't want to accept a post with your family if I wouldn't be here—" She'd always babbled when her nerves set in.

He wondered if the best way to stop it was still the same.

"Granger," he murmured, hand sliding up to cup her cheek as his fingers slid into her hair.

She surged forward, nearly knocking him out of the chair, and slanted her lips to his with a whisper of his name. "I don't know what happens next, you know."

He knew it too. "Shh, we can have this moment."

There was another whimper, but it was wholly unrelated to her argument.

It felt like they were on the same page.

* * *

Of course, Draco knew that they certainly weren't. It would be too hard for that shift to occur immediately, but he was a patient man, and if it was for Granger, he could be patient for as long as it took. At the very least, she didn't move away from him anymore as though he might burn her if she came too close.

He'd kissed her a few more times. Once pressed against the wall of the kitchen when he'd come home with a cut peeking out from his collar—it'd been nothing terrible, really, just that Weasley was a fool and Draco had been keen to let her worry over him—and she'd pulled the edge of his shirt back. His hands had slid into her hair while backing her to the wall, and his lips had been skimming her jaw when the floo sounded around the corner. " _We invited Harry and Ron for dinner."_

Granger wasn't shy. From experience he knew that she would tell him exactly what she wanted, and she might even describe how she wanted it—which could lead to several ideal situations. She snogged him when he was about to leave in the morning.

He snogged her if he had the chance to sneak back to their flat while taking his lunch hour.

"Bloody fucking hell," his voice was ragged against her throat. "I could kiss you like this for the rest of my life." Draco didn't mean to let such a loaded statement slip out, but he was relieved to hear her laugh.

Then her breath met his ear and her nails scraped against his scalp. "Just like this?" Granger whispered, and she climbed to straddle his waist. Her knees bracketed his hips, and whether she meant to roll her hips was unclear. Soft lips trailed down his jaw, and she nipped him when his grip on her waist tightened. "It's just that there are so many ways to kiss me."

She'd be the death of him.

God, she was going to kill him.

"Are there?"

Deep brown eyes grew wicked as she flicked her gaze up to him. "Shall I show you?"

She knew the answer before he replied.

Granger cradled his face lightly and slid her lips against his, tongue flicking out while her thumbs stroked across his cheeks in slow strokes. "You can kiss me like that," she murmured, her lips barely a breath from his. "So soft, and slow until my head spins."

A low groan sounded from his throat.

She wiggled her hips again, looking triumphant when it earned another appreciative sound. Granger gripped his hair roughly then, allowing her nails to meet his scalp because she knew full well how he liked it, and rocked her hips against his while kissing him so hard he thought his lips might be bruised afterward.

His arms came around her, and he sat forward, balancing her in his lap while she whimpered into his mouth.

She broke away, glancing at the floor nervously when she leaned back too far.

"I've got you." Draco flexed his fingers for show and grinned when she leaned forward. "I'm sure there are several more way to snog you,

"Mhmm,"

Allowing his hands to drift up her sides, Draco's fingers brushed against the sides of her breasts through her thin shirt. "But I think this is your favorite way to be kissed."

Hermione looked at him, her lips slightly swollen and her hair a mess. "Sometimes I like slow too."

He remembered kissing her in the Room of Requirement—that hadn't been destroyed by what he could guess was a miracle—so slowly that she'd begun to cry. Draco had believed he might too.

"But not right now." Her hair was a blur of chestnut and she crashed against him again. She slid her hands under his shirt, running her fingertips over the cut lines of his abdomen, eventually gravitating to the waxy surface of a scar that she still knew by heart. "I need—"

"I think they're going to be just fine, Cissy."

Granger shot out of his lap and landed on the other end of the couch, her hand already held up as her wand sailed into it.

He would almost rather it be an intruder, but it was worse.

Shifting awkwardly and grabbing a pillow to hide the obvious bulge in his pants, Draco glared at his mother and father. "Have you ever heard of a floo call?"

The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched and his mother made no effort to hide her smile. "We did call, but you ignored it. I told your mother that it could wait, but she insisted on popping over."

From the corner of his eyes, he could still see Granger's chest rising and falling too quickly to be considered normal. Unsurprisingly, there was a love bite on her neck. "I heard the Floo, but we were," She cut herself short, her cheeks flaming.

"To what do we owe this visit?" Draco sighed.

Granger righted her hair the best she could without a brush, and crossed one leg over the other.

Narcissa offered a pitying smile. "It was only details for the wedding, actually. I see now it could have waited."

Always gracious, Hermione stood—at least _she_ could—and led Narcissa into the kitchen and he could hear her saying they could use the table for catalogues.

"The two of you are doing well." Lucius nodded toward him, amusement evident when his brows lifted. "Your mother saw Pansy a few days ago, and she had quite the story about a fight between the two of you."

Pansy surely hadn't meant anything bad by it, but it really wasn't her business.

Draco gave a clipped nod. "I was an arse and hurt her by not thinking of what I was about to say."

"Ah," his father sat beside him. "That's a mistake wizards have made for centuries."

"Is that meant to make me feel better?"

Lucius snorted. "It should make you feel appropriately terrible considering it was over children. Witches are sensitive to that rather often, Draco."

From the other room, Narcissa squealed and Draco looked at his father.

"It's best we leave them alone," Lucius said. "Do you have firewhisky? I suspect we'll be here for quite a while."

Granger laughed in the next room over.

* * *

She knocked on his door two hours after she'd gone to bed, and he didn't bother to pull on a shirt before letting the door swing open. "Were you sleeping?"

"Not yet."

Granger rocked back on her heels. "I was hoping I could talk to you about something. Would you mind?"

He stepped to the side. "Not at all."

She sat at the foot of his bed and glanced over her shoulder at the pillows. It wasn't the first time she'd been in his room, and now that he thought of it, Draco thought it might have been the last time he'd slept well. "Your mother and I talked this evening about a traditional ceremony."

Draco, who had spent the better part of the evening finding his way to the bottle of Ogdens with his father, had no idea. The mattress dipped below his weight as he sat beside her. "Did you come to a decision?"

"I did, actually and I don't think your mother will like it. Narcissa has been so kind to me. I would hate to disappoint her hopes for her son's wedding."

From the little Draco and Hermione had discussed it, he knew a ceremony wasn't what she wanted, and he wasn't going to ask her to do anything she didn't want. "I love my mother, but this isn't about her. I don't have a preference; I'll give you anything you want, Hermione."

Her knee bumped his and she laid her head on his shoulder. "I didn't choose this."

"I know you didn't."

"I'm not upset that it's you."

He laughed. "You mean to say that you're not upset _anymore_." She pinched his stomach hard. "I was joking!"

"Jokes are meant to be funny. That wasn't funny." She blew out a breath. "Everything Narcissa and I have discussed is gorgeous, but I can't…"

Draco squeezed her hand and waited.

"I don't want to have a wedding if it isn't real. We're figuring things out as we go now, but this wasn't what either of us could have expected, and as silly as it may sound, I don't want to wear a wedding dress if it isn't real."

He traced the veins in the top of her hand "It's not silly."

"You don't think so?"

"Not at all."

She drew a soft, little breath. "I know that we have weeks until the deadline, but they're not going to reverse the law, Draco."

A weight dropped onto his chest. "You don't want to wait?"

Hermione shook her head. "It will happen either way. What's the point in delaying the inevitable?"

"You realize that we'll have to consu—"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm well aware. Do you think your mother will be angry?"

Mother would be upset, absolutely, but not because Hermione didn't want a wedding. She'd understand the reasoning. "No, it will be fine. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"She's hopeful we'll make a proper go of this. I wasn't sure if you realized that."

He and his mother hoped for the same thing then. "Is that what she told you?"

Granger nodded. "She saw Pansy, apparently. Pansy told her about our row, and my leaving the flat. How embarrassing."

"Not nearly as embarrassing as knowing how badly I fucked up." Draco dragged his fingers through his hair. "No, that's not fair to compare them."

"She asked me if I wanted children."

"Was that the squeal I heard?"

She laughed. "I imagine so. The way I reacted so poorly has bothered me since last week and I want to tell you that whenever we have a fight again, no matter what it is, I won't run out again."

While they were putting everything in the open, Draco supposed he ought to as well. "The Ministry isn't going to exempt you. Official correspondence should arrive in the morning."

Bumping her shoulder against his, she flashed a wide grin and her disapproval didn't reach her eyes. "Of course you would already know, wouldn't you? How did you manage that?"

"I haven't done anything nefarious, if that's what you're asking. Someone in the Ministry owed me a favor. That's all."

"Thank you."

Draco slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his lips skimming her temple before she turned her head and captured his lips. His groan was muffled and Draco sat her in his lap. "Granger, _fuck_ —"

Her hands slid over his chest, and like on the sofa, she rolled her hips. "Am I doing something wrong?"

She knew she wasn't.

Slipping his hands up and over her thighs, Draco discovered with a start that she'd chosen not to wear shorts to bed, only the long shirt draped over her and a pair of knickers. "Fucking hell," he groaned.

"At least there can't be any interruptions this late." She murmured, wrapping her legs around him. "Then again, with your luck…"

"Why am I the one with the bad luck?" Draco's fingers inched along the elastic of her knickers, and he watched her shudder above him. His touch slid down until his fingers were pressed against her, his fingers moving in a slow circle of her clit.

Granger tensed up, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. "Draco, I need—"

She was dripping. It could be felt even though her knickers, and she pressed herself against him, her breath ragged against his throat.

"I know." The words were whispered into her hair, and Draco pushed the fabric aside, sliding a finger between her folds. "You're soaked, Granger."

Her teeth met his throat, and there would be a mark in the morning, but he couldn't say he cared. Short whimpers sounded next to his ear when he rubbed her clit. "Draco, please, just—"

He wondered if in the morning she would think they had moved too quickly, but he pushed that away. Granger was a grown witch who could make her own decisions.

"I know, I know," Draco pumped two fingers into her cunt, fingers curling while she gasped. "I'll take such good care of you."

Light flooded the room and over Granger's shoulder, there was a stag. Before he could voice his irritation, his partner's voice spilled from it. " _We have orders from Robards for an overnight mission, but it's probably going to take two or three days, honestly. Sightings of Dark Wizards in Sussex. Be at the DMLE Apparition point in thirty minutes."_

"About that bad luck…" Granger laughed. "It's alright. Go. I can take care of myself."

The mental picture that brought didn't help any.

"I have thirty minutes," Draco growled, pulling her backward. "Plenty of time to leave you satisfied."

Her eyes shot open. "Draco, you need to pack." She landed against the pillows.

"I always have a bag packed. Potter's notorious for bursting into my life with last minute missions." Draco settled between her thighs, and hooked his fingers in either side of her knickers. "Unless you don't want this, of course."

"Of course I do, but what about you?"

He had no intention of shagging her while on a time limit. "I'd like to take my time." Draco pulled her knickers and tossed them into the floor. "The first time I sleep with you will not be rushed, Granger. Spread your legs."

Red sprung to her cheeks.

Good, she still enjoyed filthy words as much as she ever had.

Hermione parted her thighs, nibbling her lower lip.

"Good girl." He licked a strip up her folds, slowly sliding two fingers into her. "You have the prettiest cunt I've ever seen."

"Oh, God—"

His tongue flicked over the bundle of nerves, slipping against her in lazy ministrations at first before quickening until she cried out his name.

"Draco, oh my _God._ " She sounded as though she might sob as she squeezed her thighs together, his tongue still working against her. "Please, your fingers—" He watched her head fall back when she shrieked. "Harder. _Harder_."

Still so fucking bossy.

Draco fucked her with his fingers and his tongue until she shuddered a final time and cried out his name.

"Oh, my God." Came the soft, weak voice as her head fell back to the pillows. "I don't want to move."

He chuckled. Draco summoned a wet cloth and wiped the sweat from her forehead before wiping her inner thighs. "Then don't. Sleep in my bed, if you like. It's better than the guest anyway."

She reached up lazily and pulled him down for a soft kiss. "Be careful out there."

Draco promised that he would and when he turned around from changing into his uniform, Granger was fast asleep already. Her hair rested across the pillows and a slow smile curved his lips. Kneeling beside the bed, he reached up to turn off the light, and ran a finger over her cheek.

_I love you, did you know that?_

On his way out, Crooks brushed past his ankles and trotted into the room before hopping onto the bed and curling in the space beside Granger's face.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished chapter seventeen this morning and I think this story will land somewhere around 22-24 chapters long. I'm almost to the end now!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This story is going to be about twenty-one chapters, and I'm working through writing the last three chapters now. This was not beta read, but has been read by mcal, who is still the most lovely.
> 
> IMPORTANT - This chapter has a trigger warning. While Hermione is not physically harmed, there is a jarring scene of violence and derogatory language used toward a female victim. Now, I think full warnings are better than vague ones, and my plot is not more important than your mental health. So, here is exactly what happens. I'm sorry for the long note! If you don't want to read this spoiler, please skip ahead.
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> Draco goes on a mission with Harry and Ron, and several other aurors. During this mission, they uncover the fact that one of the Carrows and Dolohov. During this mission, Draco uncovers that Dolohov has glamoured a muggle girl as Hermione Granger. Dolohov says cruel, sickening things about this girl, about Hermione as well, to Draco directly. If rape/non-con is any kind of trigger for you, I would discourage reading. The experience is traumatic to Draco, who I stress is not the most important part of this, but since it's from his perspective, it's what you're going to read.

* * *

Sussex was a clusterfuck.

Despite the fact that they were years out from the end of the war, it hardly mattered when every other week there was a wizard—or witch, Draco had seen both and the witches were the ones that concerned him most—trying to dig his heels in while spouting that he would be the next Dark Lord. Typically, these individuals were little to no threat.

Nobody's with fuck all to do but preach views that were reaching the end of their ropes while trying to lure in a younger generation. No matter how many times it was done, it never worked, but Sussex was—

"It's bad," Potter told him in the Ministry. His fingers had been clenched around a document, his knuckles a stark white, and at the time, Draco had noticed a love bite on his partner's neck. He'd handed off a travel size tub of Murtlap Essence in lieu of saying anything. "I thought Robards was exaggerating, but it looks like it might be the start of uprising due to the law—if it gets the time and space to spread."

Several Aurors filtered into the DMLE by two in the morning, and while he was mostly focused on the task at hand while he sat through a briefing, Draco found his mind wandering to the witch fast asleep in his bed at home. He even thought of her monstrous half-Kneazle with a nose that looked as though it had run into a wall incredibly hard.

Robards' voice was quiet when it carried through the room. Low. Grave. It sent his stomach into a sharp turn and Potter's eyes were narrowed when he tilted his head barely an inch toward Draco. "There are at least twenty wizards in this home, but recon teams have been unable to confirm a hard number. Truthfully, we're not entirely sure what you'll walk into."

The hair on the back of Draco's neck rose.

Head Auror Robards' voice remained neutral, though the strain to do so was evident. "We have reason to believe that there is a hostage inside, kept under lock and key in the basement. Our primary focuses are to apprehend these wizards, but not at the risk of losing the hostage."

It hadn't been in the file. Nothing.

"Due to the sensitive nature of the hostage's alleged state right now," His eyes closed, and there was a furrow to his brows. "It's regarded as information only to be revealed to Aurors on scene, and at the highest level of security clearance."

A peculiar way to say it, Draco thought to himself.

"This will be the worst scene we've witnessed in years." With his voice barely a whisper, Robards gripped both sides of the podium. He concluded shortly after that with little more information shared, and Draco followed him in the corridor.

"Head Auror Robards, what you said—"

He was shorter than Draco, but it didn't make Draco any less intimidated by the man. "If I tell you anything, we have an understanding it's to remain in your team, don't we?"

"Of course, sir."

Draco wasn't sure if Robards had decided to tell him due to his status as an Auror—decorated, even when he was standing next to his partner—or if it weighed on him. The second seemed unlikely. "There's a mole in the group. Photographs came to me this morning and I received a go ahead for this mission within the hour before I sent for all of you.

"For the record, I had every intention of telling you this before sending you in. If you were to come across the hostage without warning—" Robards cleared his throat. "The Minister thought you should be removed from the assignment entirely, but I refused."

He blinked. "I don't understand why the Minister would request I not report to work."

"Hermione Granger has been dragged through the mud relentlessly over the past few weeks, hasn't she? Has she ever voiced a concern for receiving any threats?"

"She has not," Draco said slowly, his voice sounding foreign even to his own ears and his blood ran cold. "Does this have something to do with her? Is she in danger?" She couldn't be, he knew. The wards on the flat were impenetrable.

"Their motivations are focused on her, it would seem, but she's currently untouchable. There has been quite an increase in violence since this marriage incentive was brought to the public, Auror Malfoy. I'm not sure if they have plans to fester and spread—but the threat is still there."

"That doesn't explain why I would be removed—"

Robards' throat bobbed when he swallowed. "They've kidnapped a muggle girl. She bears a strong resemblance to Hermione Granger, and I would even suspect a glamour charm to make her appear just like her."

It felt as though his lungs were being crushed and he slapped a palm to the wall to steady himself. "Are you—" He couldn't think, much less form an appropriate sentence.

"I understand how tempting it will be to lose your temper, Draco but Minister Shacklebolt barely allowed this."

Draco heard the message loud and clear: _stay calm, don't do anything rash._

He just wasn't sure if he'd be able to manage it.

* * *

He waited to tell Ron and Harry until they were separated from the pack of Aurors steadily making their way toward the Apparition point. But then Boot joined them and he had to wait even longer. Draco wished both of them would have been there to hear it so he didn't have to repeat it, but there was not a chance he could let either of them walk into this without knowing.

Draco debated whether or not he wished he didn't know. He imagined Robards believing that he might have frozen if he'd barged down into the basement to see a girl that could have passed as Granger—he hadn't seen photos; he was going by hearsay—but Draco thought it was likely to be just as traumatic either way.

Once in Sussex, teams scattered. They would be able to communicate through comms that rested behind the shell of the ear—invisible equipment that had been engineered by a muggleborn Unspeakable using technology he knew from the muggle world.

Draco was careful to momentarily silence anything on their end as they hunkered down in the fifth floor of an abandoned warehouse that had certainly been abandoned for years. Nearly five hundred yards from the property they'd been sent to watch—a hundred yards outside where the wards ended, according to the mole—Draco knelt to the floor in the gathering dust while Weasley pulled a scope from his bag.

"Did you silence—" Potter started.

"Shut up, and listen because we won't have a lot of time before they start the first check-ins." If either of them were irritated by the rough demand, neither of them let it show. "I spoke with Robards before we left. This group is apparently furious about the law, and probably the fact that bloodlines are being mixed as well. More importantly, they're blaming Granger for it."

Ron very nearly dropped the scope and his face turned red, as did the tips of his ears.

"The hostage is a muggle girl that looks just like her. Shacklebolt wanted me removed from this mission because she's my fiance, but Robards wouldn't allow it."

"We care just as much—" Ron started and then he stopped. "I know that isn't the point here, but fucking hell, hasn't she gone through enough?"

Draco agreed. He really did.

* * *

It was worth noting that rarely did he not think of her, but when the sun rose, all he could think about was how she had probably slept in late. She was probably stretching while still in his bed, her knickers still tossed in the floor, before she eventually made her way into the kitchen. Draco knew Crooks would follow her and hop on the counters. He knew she would set his dish on the table if he weren't there to shoo her cat off the blasted thing.

He wondered what she was doing while Potter slept on the floor and he kept his fingers gripped tightly around the scope.

Draco always thought of her now, but it was different that morning.

He'd imagined waking up with her. Whether or not they'd slept together was unknown, but he'd kill to crack one eye open and find her hair attempting to suffocate him rather than losing all feelings in his knees in a warehouse.

Over the course of twenty-four hours, Draco counted sixteen wizards that passed in front of the window they had a clear view of, and all of them looked like tossers. Once an hour, on the hour, their comms would sound and they would begin checking in.

It became clear that he wouldn't be home in two days quickly.

The nest of wizards timed their changing of their guard at twelve hours marks,

Once at noon.

Once at midnight.

There was a witch with jaggedly cut blonde hair that stood in front of the window at midnight, staring across the field with a glint to her eyes. A scar stretched from the top of her cheek down to the beginning of her jaw.

Draco recognised her immediately. Kicking Potter's ankles hard enough to wake him and still hard enough to hear him whine, he cut him off. "Alecto Carrow is in that house."

Ron stirred at the low his, dragging a hand down his face as he sat up. "Carrow? No one's seen them in years."

"Evidently, she's done well when it comes to avoiding Aurors. She's changed her hair to blonde, but I would know the scar anywhere."

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco had watched as her brother was nearly cut in half by a botched spell cast by his aunt—coincidentally moments before Bellatrix had been killed as well—and Alecto had turned to fight anyone who came near her brother. It had been Fenrir to deal the blow, claws dipped in a cursed potion brewed in Malfoy Manor.

Some scars could never be hidden, no matter how strong the glamour was.

Potter didn't say a word as he took the scope between his palms and looked for himself. "That's definitely her. We'll inform Robards. We can't wait any longer if there are other Death Eaters inside."

There weren't many Death Eaters that were still uncaptured. Yaxley, Dolohov, and Alecto. Draco would bet his inheritance the others had fled the country and never looked back.

"You said it was a girl who looked like—" Weasley swallowed hard, unwilling to say the words at all. "Alecto's a threat, certainly but if Dolohov is inside—"

He'd had the same thought as Draco.

"He just," Ron sighed heavily. "Even during the final battle, he was watching her. I saw him. In Malfoy Manor, I was more worried he would get to her rather than anyone else."

Acid formed in Draco's stomach, and his mouth grew dry. "I'll tear him apart."

"You won't be alone." Ron muttered.

At the same time, however, Harry was the voice of reason. "Draco, you're lucky to be on this mission if all of this is true. We treat this like any other mission."

"This is _Hermione,_ "

Draco didn't trust himself to say anything while Ron's face grew red.

"I want to hex them until they're unrecognizable too," Harry said. "If we do though, you know Robards will have no choice but to punish Malfoy for it."

Draco scoffed.

* * *

On the second day leading into the third, all Aurors organized themselves outside the wards while under heavy disillusionment charms.

Draco could feel his heartbeat between his ears. There had been no further confirmation that there were more Death Eaters inside, and they had reported the sighting of Alecto to the Ministry minutes after it had happened. The priority of success was increased in the same moment, and Draco knew that it meant failure would not be an option.

Potter let him lead. Draco didn't know if it was because he sensed the anger threatening to boil if he didn't get the chance to _do_ something, or if he just didn't want to lead.

That would be ridiculous. Potter always wanted to fucking lead.

Under the cover of a dark sky with hardly any lights, he signaled to the right for Aurors Boot, Smith and Peck to go before clearing the other side. There had been no expectation for any wizards—or the witch—to be outside, but as they cleared the perimeter, they joined at the side of the house with no windows.

"I'm going to detonate at the count of ten," Boot pulled the device from the deepest pocket on his thigh. "Gotta say, muggles might have had the right idea when they made this."

Slowly over the course of a minute, other Aurors joined them, revealing themselves only for a moment before going back under their charms.

Boot began a countdown on five, holding up his left hand while his wand remained firmly trapped in his left.

Malfoy conjured protective shields with Potter and Weasley, blocking the entire group.

Boot held one finger, and the second it touched his palm, the wall blew. Remnants of it slammed against the shields and as smoke was cast forward in the blast, Draco was one of the first ones inside. A familiar shade of green cut through plumes of smoke, only inches to the left of his cheek and there was no time to see where it had landed.

To see if it had connected with someone he saw everyday.

Weasley nodded as he followed closely behind Bones, covering her back as they moved into the onslaught. They climbed the stairs, Susan in front with her wand pointed upward.

" _Bombarda!"_ It connected on the east side of the building. The ground trembled under the soles of his boots.

Potter jerked his head toward an open door with stairs leading down. "Think it's too easy?"

"Probably." Taking advantage of the chaos focused in the center of the room, both of them disillusioned themselves as they slipped through the entryway.

It smelled of mildew and metallic.

_Don't let her be dead—don't let her be dead._

A board creaked under Potter's foot, and they froze. Draco knew without truly seeing that his partner's head had whipped around to stare at him.

Above them, offensive spells were cast so quickly that identifying one voice from another was impossible.

Below them was a mystery.

"I know you're there." Shrouded in familiarity, the voice was raw as though he had been screaming. "Do you think they'll save you, love? I wonder."

Draco shoved past Harry on the stairs, feet connected with the cement at the bottom. Huddled in a corner of filthy blankets, there was a girl leaning forward limply. Matted brown hair hung down, and Draco could see that it had been curly once.

There was a wedge in his throat.

Dolohov kicked her forward, his heel digging into her back. "Come now, drop your charms." He drew his hand.

Dolohov was too close to her. If he cast a spell, there would be no guarantee it wouldn't strike her.

" _Confringo!"_ Potter's cast missed, but he followed with a knee-reversing hex, sending Dolohov stumbling to the ground. "Get her out of here. Apparate!"

Draco revealed himself when he reached her, wrapping his fingers around her forearms softly.

The killing curse burst forward.

Her head tipped backward.

"Looks just like the real thing, doesn't she?"

She was at home.

She was _at home._

Granger stared up at him, her lips cracked from dryness and her teeth bloody. She shied away from him, whimpering. "Don't hurt—"

"Draco, Apparate her _out._ " Potter saw it, and still ordered him with his lips pressed into a flat line. "It's not Hermione. She's safe. Listen to _me_."

The cackle that came would stay with him.

Draco was sure of it.

_Granger. Granger. Granger. Granger—_

"She's rather dependent on me, that one. Nothing like how the real one would be, I imagine but you must know all about that."

"He's goading you. Don't give in."

The upstairs quieted.

He'd dressed her in a Hogwarts uniform, and ripped the shirt in half.

There was a purple line spread down her chest.

She was exactly the same.

"Not quite as the real mudblood." Yellow, cracked teeth were revealed when he smiled. "She doesn't fight back. She begs me not to hurt her, offers her filthy cunt so she can stay alive."

It really— _really—_ didn't matter if this woman was Granger, or not. She was a victim of a mad man.

Still, it was Granger's face that looked up at him and _her_ fingers that began to pull what was left of her blouse apart while whispering, "How can I make you happy?"

" _Expelliarmus!"_ Potter shouted and Dolohov was no longer armed.

But then it came again and neither was Draco.

" _Don't fucking—Draco!"_

He didn't need a wand, Draco thought as he hauled Dolohov forward by his collar and slammed him face first into a wall.

He didn't need anything at all to make him suffer.

* * *

In the terms of the mission—in the Ministry's eyes, anyway—it had been a success. Two Death Eaters captured and a slew of wizards that had only been growing more and more dangerous by the day. The papers would report that, but it wouldn't be the only thing.

How terrible was it that no matter how much good you could be involved in, that if there were one—just _one_ —thing to make anyone think twice, it gained more attention?

With that in mind, even as Minister Shacklebolt handed down a suspension from work, with pay, for two weeks, Draco couldn't say he regretted his actions. In fact, he'd do it again and he had said as much. They would have been more lenient if he had.

"Dolohov will be unable to stand trial for his crimes for months, Auror Malfoy. Do you understand that?" Shacklebolt told him. "Your actions—"

Robards held up a hand. "Would you have done anything different?"

"That is not the point here. You," he leveled a finger "endangered an entire mission in order to exact your own punishment."

"I would never endanger a mission." Draco leaned forward. "The fighting had already ceased by the time I was on Dolohov. Minister, I accept my punishment however you deem fit, but I will not apologize for my actions."

"There is the matter of—"

Draco shouldn't have snorted, but he did. "Appearances? Optics? Minister, the man is a known Death Eater. A murderer, a _rapist_ who glamoured a muggle girl to look like my _fiance_ so he could enact a fantasy. How the fuck should I have reacted?"

Robards didn't correct him as he leaned back in his chair.

Kingsley exhaled sharply. "If I had known the girl in the photographs—"

"I would have allowed him to go regardless," Robards folded his hands over his stomach. "Auror Malfoy has an exemplary record in his time here as an Auror. I expected for there to be several reports filed, accusing him of brutality, but the only one ever to be filed was by a captured Death Eater. What does that tell you, Minister?"

"Suspended with pay for two weeks, Auror Malfoy. For the record, I cannot condone your behavior in Sussex, but I realize that it was an impossible situation to be in."

In the hours that had passed since returning to the Ministry, Dolohov's words continued to echo in his head.

"You can't realize anything," Draco said. "Will that be all? As pleasant as this is, I'd much rather go home to see Granger."

The Minister nodded. "Head Auror, a word if you will?"

The door clicked shut behind him, and Draco finally exhaled. Another few minutes and he would be landing in the Floo of the flat and he could convince himself that she was fine. That it hadn't been her—even if he knew that rationally, it couldn't have been.

A handful of reporters stood in the atrium, media passes hung around their necks, and Draco turned in the opposite direction. He'd use the exit they'd snuck Granger out of instead. Anything to avoid the blood hounds.

With his hands shoved in his pockets, Draco realized his jaw was painfully clenched.

"Draco!" Granger rushed after him, her hair a mess, and a shirt that was too long for—it was his shirt, he realized. "I thought I was never going to find you!" She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into her tightly. "Ron said you were suspended, but he wouldn't tell me why. He said that I would need to ask you…"

She continued talking, but he didn't catch the rest of it.

Draco lifted her chin up. He ran a thumb over her lip to reassure himself that it wasn't split. Her teeth weren't broken.

She bore no bruises or cuts or wounds.

"Draco?" She led him to a bench off the corridor. "We'll be left alone here. What are you doing?"

He knelt between her legs, and slid his arms around her waist. "Just stay here for a moment, alright?"

If she replied, he did hear it. Granger combed her fingers through his hair and hummed while he hugged her tightly, breathing in the scent of her. "Do you think you can tell me what happened?"

Telling her about Dolohov was the worst thing he could imagine right then. "What do you know?"

"Alecto Carrow was captured. Ron wouldn't tell me very much, honestly."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I brought Dolohov in this morning."

She froze.

"He kidnapped a muggle girl. He tortured her, Granger. The healers at St Mungo told me everything that—" Draco cut himself short. "It was so fucking terrible."

Granger held him closer and leaned forward to brush her lips against his hair. "Is that what this is about? Will you help me understand a bit more?"

"He glamoured her. I don't know how and it will be months before he's able to tell us, but I imagine he just had such a vivid imagination that he…"

Her hands framed his cheeks and he stared up at her.

He hadn't been aware that his eyes were watering until then.

"What did he do, Draco?"

"Please trust me that I would never try to keep terrible things from you, but I don't think it's something you should hear." He managed.

_She pulled at the scraps of her shirt with trembling fingers. "How can I make you—"_

Granger's lips were cool against his knuckles when she lifted his hand. "It's affecting you a great deal. We're in this together now, aren't we? Whatever it is, I want to be here for you just as much."

_She'd clung to him when he picked her up. It was her voice._

"He glamoured her as you." Draco whispered. "Minutes before we left, Robards told me the girl had been disguised to look like you, but all he'd seen was her hair. I—we didn't know until—"

Hermione sank to the floor, awkwardly sitting in his lap while kissing tears away from his cheeks. "I'm here. I'm okay."

He locked his arms around her. "I knew it wasn't you, but then I thought—looked just the same and sounded just the same."

"I promise that I'm here." Granger rested her forehead to his. "And I promise that I'm not leaving."

Burying his face in her shoulder, Draco was grateful no one came to this corridor.

"You are so incredibly brave, did you know that?" She told him. "I know you were strong for her."

"For _you_ ," he rasped. "Everything—it's always been for you, don't you fucking know that?"

She smiled. "I know. I may not have agreed with all of the decisions you made for _me_ ,"

" _Granger._ "

"But I know that. That's not something I've ever doubted, Draco."

He forced himself to swallow. "I'm suspended because I assaulted Dolohov. He filed a report complaining of my brutality."

"I see."

"He won't be fit to stand trial for months."

Her eyes shot open. "What did you _do_?"

 _Nothing he didn't deserve._ "It's probably for the best that Potter took my wand." Their corner of the world grew quiet again. "I tried to calm down, but then I saw you and I couldn't."

She nodded. "I know." Her fingers slid down his arm. "If you ever need to talk about it, I'll be right here. It doesn't matter to me if you think it will upset me." Granger tilted her head to the side. "Two weeks of suspension?"

"Yes."

"The Department of Legally Binding Contracts is just around the corner."

He lifted a brow. "Are you suggesting…?"

She grinned. "I'm definitely not suggesting anything."

"I'm tired of suggestions, Hermione." Draco sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Perhaps I should just tell you exactly what I want instead."

"Oh! Are we learning from past mistakes now?"

He tickled her. "I want to marry you."

Her breath caught.

"And that may not make a bit of sense and you might think it's too soon, but I want to marry you. Then I want to spend the next two weeks with you, if you'd have me."

He expected her to say no, and he wouldn't have been upset if she had.

Granger nodded and his lips crashed against hers.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In between binging Bones and devouring the ACOTAR series, I figured I could update too. It's even sooner than normal! It has not been beta read, but has been beta read by mcal, who has also lovingly putting up with me while I text her while also flipping my absolute shit about Rhysand. (No spoilers please, I'm not done yet. Don't even tell me anything.)

* * *

Despite the fact that a clerk with the power to join them sat in an office within walking distance, they didn't go. Granger's rationality kicked in, as he knew it would, and he was just glad she hadn't changed her mind altogether.

"I think we should tell your parents before we do anything spontaneously. Both of them have been so kind to me, Draco. I couldn't stand to do it without telling them."

He wondered if part of this was due to the fact that she would never be able to tell her own parents.

He made sure not to voice that outloud.

Granger's hand fit in his, her fingers threaded through his and she lost her footing as they landed in the Apparition point just outside the manor. "Are you nervous?"

"To marry you? Of course not."

It hadn't been what she meant, and he knew that but the pink rising to her cheeks made it worth it. "I meant telling your parents. You don't think they'll be upset?"

"Do you ever stop worrying, Granger?"

"It's warranted and I'm just being considerate—"

The gates swung open. "How about," Draco pulled her through the wards "you stop thinking about what anyone else wants you to do and just think about what _you_ want to do."

She nibbled her lower lip. The path leading toward the large double doors of Malfoy Manor was a long one, positioned in a straight line between decorative hedges.

"I fell off my broom and landed in these bushes when I was a child."

"You did?"

Draco nodded. "Every time I visit, I remember that. Partially because my mum has never let me forget it, even for a moment."

Granger's lips curved upward. "I suppose I'll have to carry on that tradition than. You think of that every time?"

"I used to think of other things," Draco murmured, stroked his thumb across her skin. "That's not the point though."

The memory of Death Eaters on this estate would never fade. At a moment's notice, he recognised a spot where Nagini had slithered through taller grass before coming up over his feet.

Fingers curved around his forearm. "You went somewhere."

Unable to trust his voice not to crack, Draco nodded.

"Did you talk about this when you attended therapy?"

He sucked in a breath.

Granger's bottom lip wobbled. "I shouldn't have asked that. It's an invasion of privacy. Please, just pretend I didn't say anything."

"You are absurd. It doesn't bother me. You only caught me off-guard." Draco chuckled. They had paused halfway along the path, and he was content to stay there. "Yes, I had to talk about it. Having the Dark Lord live in my home for two years was—it—" There weren't words. "I was worried I wouldn't be approved for the Auror training program because of it. Healer Barnes thought it may have caused so much psychological damage that I would be too dangerous in the field."

Tilting her head to the side, Granger's brow furrowed as she appeared to be deep in thought. "That wouldn't have made any sense. Voldemort had been in Harry's head for years, a part of him even, and the DMLE would have never rejected him."

"Right, well." Draco kicked the toe of his boot against the stone. "I'm sure the Ministry would have phrased it differently with it being me."

She shook her head, and bit her lip before she could launch into the unfairness of it all. "I'm happy that you went. When you told me, I was preoccupied with my own anger."

"It was the best thing for me." Draco paused. He didn't know why he feared saying anything more at all. The two of them would likely be married within twenty-four hours anyway, and it had been proven that whatever had pulled them together as teenagers was still in play. "I talked about you too."

Granger had been admiring a rose bush until he said that and her head snapped back to him. "You did?"

Exhaling, Draco slid his hands into his pockets and nodded. "It was immediately after graduation that I began attending sessions. By the end of that summer, I had decided to apply for the Auror program and I entered with Potter and Weasley. That time, it was all digging into any psychological trauma that would prevent me from—"

She inched closer to him, peering up at him through her lashes.

"I told Healer Barnes that I had broken up with my girlfriend because it was the best thing for her."

Her lips flattened.

"I know, I _know._ There were several things said, but he told me if I was as miserable as I was, then maybe you were too. I told him you'd get better though and I was right."

She frowned. "Perhaps you weren't watching closely enough then."

"We talked about Voldemort and the war and you. It always came back to you." Draco breathed. "Look, I don't expect for it to be okay that I was an arse—"

"Good because I'm not planning on ever letting you live it down."

He snorted "I missed you and I'm not going to stand here while waxing poetic that I've been waiting for you for years for my chance."

Granger was always warm. She radiated heat, and her hand trapped in his was no exception.

"I have made a lot of mistakes. Astoria was…" He swallowed hard. "I got caught up in what I thought I was supposed to do and when I realized it wasn't what I wanted, and then there was the slimmest chance, I dropped everything."

"Draco,"

He spoke over her. "I'm not the best man in the world, but if there is anything I know for certain it's that you make me want to be."

Granger hardly ever cried spontaneously, but her eyes began to water and he cursed. "No," she whispered. "It's good."

"How is crying ever good?"

She grinned. "You can't punish yourself anymore, Draco. Any mistakes we've made are in the past. And you are a good man, never let me hear you say anything to the contrary ever again."

* * *

Draco planned to ease his parents into the decision. Light small talk at first before leading them into the actual conversation they had come to have. His mother and father would have noticed the tactic thirty seconds in—having taught it to him themselves—but Granger wasn't having any of it.

One word out of his mouth about how his mother's social life was—something Granger knew he wouldn't care about—and she'd slid in front of him.

Even digging his fingers into her shoulders didn't deter her.

Of course it didn't.

"We've decided to elope."

Lucius' eyes widened a fraction and instead of saying anything at all, he tipped a glass of firewhisky to his mouth. "We saw you at the gates. I assumed I might have needed this if it had anything to do with your suspension."

Narcissa folded her hands in her lap.

Granger continued, her voice high-pitched. The same it always was when she was on the verge of panicking.

That was, of course, wholly inaccurate.

She had already begun panicking.

"I don't want to upset you with all the planning you've already done. I really do appreciate everything we've gone over, but I can't— What I'm trying to say is that I don't have to have a grand wedding because this isn't what either of us had planned—"

His father exchanged a glance with him over Granger's head.

Narcissa's brows drew together.

"And if one day Draco and I decide to—"

_No, go back to that. You were going to say something._

"Hermione," his mother interrupted. "You should take a breath, darling. Did you believe we would be angry with you?"

Slowly, clearly not wanting to admit it, Granger nodded. "You were so happy, Narcissa. I know that Draco was meant to be married, and that was a wedding you had already planned. I hate taking this away from you—"

Narcissa tugged Granger to sit beside ehr by grabbing her hand. "You're not taking anything away from me. All a mother can wish for is for her children to be happy."

Granger's shoulders finally deflated. "I'm so relieved."

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like a moment alone with Hermione." Narcissa left no room for objections and Draco cast a look over this shoulder.

* * *

There had been details he had chosen not to elaborate on as he'd told Granger about Dolohov, but Draco told his father everything, right down to the images that he thought would haunt him.

His father had gone pale, his fingers tightening around the edge of his glass as they lingered in the kitchen. "This suspension is a bloody joke," Lucius snarled.

"The Minister agrees," Draco shook the ice around in his glass. "Optics are important to him. One word of it in the Daily Prophet and there will still be the ones who insist I'm a Death Eater."

His father, who bore the same terrible mark that he did, clenched his jaw. "As it stands, you were hardly ever one and I should have never allowed him to—"

They didn't discuss the day Draco had been marked. On his birthday, his father had woken him and led him past his mother who hadn't been able to hold in the tears. _This is a great honor_ , his father had said the words as he was supposed to, but there had been no sincerity.

_This is a nightmare and I've led you into it._

Avoiding the subject came as an unspoken rule and up to then, he could count on one hand the times they had.

"You've worked hard, Draco. If the Malfoy name is any good now, it's thanks to you." Lucius averted his eyes. "I'm sure the masses will recognize that, even if some of them don't want to. Though, the most important one seems to already realize that."

"Yeah," Draco looked into the sitting room where Granger sat, and heard her faint giggle. "I'm not sure what I'll do if this is repealed and she leaves."

Lucius snorted. "You're such a fool."

* * *

At Granger's request, they skipped the magically binding vows. Since they weren't required—and in case she ever wanted it reversed—the wizard who married them didn't blink. He gave a short nod and began to recite vows.

He married Hermione Granger in his Auror uniform, with dress robes thrown over his shoulders by Potter at the last second before stepping onto the pedestal with her. She was in a pair of muggle jeans that he found he liked too much and a shirt that belonged to him with the front hem tucked into her jeans.

She grinned at him and bounced on the balls of her feet while rolling her eyes at the slow tone of the wizard who didn't even look at them.

Potter and Weasley had come. He knew that off to the side, Pansy stood behind Granger with a smile plastered to her face. His parents were there too, because Granger had practically begged them not to care if they weren't dressed for the occassion because in case they had missed it, she was getting married in muggle jeans

He'd thought his mother would faint,

Draco heard himself say, "I do."

None of it had been real, however, until Granger's lips parted and those same words slipped out. Tendrils of magics circled their wrists, overlapping and joining to connect.

"You know," she whispered. "Eventually, everything connects. Maybe we were meant to do the same."

The ceremony concluded, and their friends clapped as the magic evaporated.

"You may kiss—oh, not wasting any time, I see."

Hermione fisted her hands in the front of his robes and pulled him forward, slanting her lips against his and kissed him until her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen. "Too eager, do you think?"

It didn't matter that anyone was watching.

"I can't believe you're wearing my shirt."

She blushed and he wondered just how far it went. "Well, I'm—"

"If you apologize, I'll scream," he muttered, and kissed her again.

* * *

"Two weeks away from work hardly seems like a punishment now." Draco told her after they were seated for dinner in a restaurant that granted private seating.

She laughed. "I don't think it ever felt like a punishment to you. Though, it shouldn't."

He arched a brow. "Granger, I know you don't approve of my actions, no matter how well you see it from my point of view. Come on, out with it."

"We've been married for all of three hours. Is this what you really want to do? Fight?"

"I hear angry sex is phenomenal," he remarked dryly.

She choked on her wine slightly, and glared. "Oh, I think we know all about that already." She swallowed, and dabbed the corner of her mouth with the napkin. 'Fine. I generally disagree with the level of violence the mission ended in, and I don't think those actions will ever be correct."

"That's what I thought,"

" _But,_ " she nudged him under the table. "He wasn't fighting fairly. Dolohov is a despicable man and I could give a shit what happens to him. I think of you staring down at my face while in a room with him—I have always known what you're capable of, Draco." Her voice dropped lower and he didn't catch what came after.

"What did you say?"

Granger sighed. "I said, 'especially when it comes to me.'"

He knew what she was referring to immediately.

"He deserved it."

"You _hexed_ his broom during a _match_." She enjoyed this just as much as he did, arguing, even if it had been had before. "I don't care what you say, Malfoy. You shouldn't have done it. You were on probation!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "And Corner shouldn't have touched my girlfriend's arse, but he did."

"You knew I would handle it."

"By doing what?" He scoffed. "Deducting house points? I made sure he didn't do it again."

Her nails bit into the cloth draped over the table. "You acted like—"

"A teenage boy, Granger. I'm sure you're familiar."

If her plate of food hadn't been there, he thought she would have let her head hit the table. "Unfortunately, I'm plenty familiar. Still, causing him to fall—"

"In case you've forgotten, I _did_ slow his fall because I knew you would harp on me."

She pointed a butter knife in his direction. " _Harp?_ Draco Malfoy, I will show you—"

With a twist of his wand, he pulled her round the circular booth, and smirked down at her. "What were you going to show me, sweetheart?"

Granger huffed. "The least you could do is bring my food with me. It's only polite."

"Oh, how dare I." He laughed. "Allow me."

She stole a buttered roll from his plate.

"Did you just— _steal_ my food?"

With her cheeks puffed out, she shook her head. It was almost believable.

* * *

If she'd been calm in the restaurant, and pleased to lean against him while tracing his pulse with her tongue while hidden under a strong Notice-Me-Not that had been his doing, her nerves had returned in full force by the time they stumbled through the sitting room.

"God, elf-wine is the best." She bumped into him and he stiffened, looping an arm around her waist while she bent down to pull her heels off. "I was better dressed for dinner than I was when I married you. Is that terrible?"

When she tried to kiss him, his nose bumped hers. Kneeling down, he could see flecks of gold amidst the brown when she laughed. "It was spur of the moment, Granger. That wizard was furious we caught him just before he went home."

"Draco," she whispers, the two syllables slurred. "Do you think this is weird? The two of us so… We've connected easily, haven't we?"

He nodded.

"Do you think it was too easy? That maybe we've moved too quickly—" Granger squeezed her eyes shut. "I wanted this."

Draco didn't say anything.

Her fingers skimmed his shoulders as she pushed his robes back until they fell to the floor. "I thought I hated you. You must have thought that too."

She was incredibly drunk, Draco realized. Apparently, elf-wine had more of an effect on her than he'd thought.

"Not too long ago, there was a weekend all of us were supposed to meet for a pub weekend. I walked in and only you were there."

Draco gripped her waist and picked her up to carry her into the bedroom. "I'll get you a change of clothes, alright?" But she didn't unlock her legs from where they were wrapped around his waist, so he sat on the bed with her.

"I knew you saw me leave and I wanted to turn around and apologize. It really wasn't your fault. I just—" She groaned, and buried her face in the crook of his neck, hiding away. "I knew if I sat down and talked to you that I would tell you I missed you."

Pulling back to look at her, he was well aware of the incredulous expression on his face. "What?"

He shouldn't ask her these sorts of things when she may not have normally.

"Not romantically—well, not _then_ anyway. We were so close, Draco. Watching you advance as an Auror and believing I could never talk to you—"

"Why would you think I didn't want to talk to you?" He was such a fucking idiot. Maybe he shouldn't be an Auror. Clearly he'd missed a few key things.

She looked down. "You told me you didn't want me. It was humiliating. I tried to talk to you, Draco. Several times, in fact but every time I tried, all I could think of was that, and I just didn't do anything at all."

Curling his fingers in her hair, the signet ring on his right hand caught the light and he pulled her closer into him. "I'm so sorry."

Granger nodded. "I know that now. God, I shouldn't have said any of this. It didn't matter."

"It matters." He smoothed her hair down. "Can you climb off me for a moment while I grab a change of clothes?"

She did just that, and looked over her shoulder at him as she laid on her stomach.

Draco rifled through the wardrobe and pulled a worn shirt from inside, and when he turned around, he found that Granger had fallen fast asleep on his side of the bed. A wide grin forming on his face, Draco carefully unzipped her dress and slipped the shirt over her head.

It was easier said than done.

Granger hadn't worn a bra with her dress. She'd charmed it instead.

"Bloody fucking hell." He muttered as he took the other side of the bed. Within a few minutes, she'd inched across the bed in her sleep and hitched her leg over both of his.

An indignant meow came from the foot of the bed.

"Oh, fuck off." Draco glared at Crooks. "Go to sleep."

Crooks bit him on the toe.

For all his cursing, Granger didn't even stir.

* * *

Something pointy pushed into his ribs, digging in, and he groaned. He shifted, but the same thing happened again. Cracking one eye open, Draco peeked down and his irritation melted. Pressed up against him in one of his shirts—his doing, he could admit that—Granger burrowed closer to him in her sleep.

In what he thought was an impossible position to sleep in, she'd managed to jab him with her elbow. It was the first thing he noticed, but the second was that she'd nudged him to the edge of the mattress throughout the night and when he barely propped himself up to look at the rest of the bed, he found the cat curled up in the centre of it.

Crooks opened one eye and hissed.

"You're a tosser," Draco muttered.

A small sound came from his side, and he looked down again. Fingers curled into a fist in his shirt, Granger stared up at him, her lips parting as her eyes widened. "Draco," she whispered. "Why does my head hurt so much?"

He snorted.

" _Don't do that_."

Lowering his voice, and shooting an obscene gesture at Crooks behind her back, Draco couldn't curb his grin. " _Elf-wine is the best,_ you said."

Her nose scrunched as she looked at him in disgust. "Elf-wine is the _worst._ "

Draco propped his head up in his hand, bracing his bicep against the mattress. He summoned a potion from the loo and dangled it in front of her face. "Sober-Up potion, just for you."

"Don't you need one?"

"Don't offend me, Granger. I can handle my booze."

She blinked. "Malfoy."

"What?"

Granger snatched it from him and swallowed it with a grimace. "No, I mean that—" Her brows furrowed. "Nevermind, it's ridiculous."

"You have to tell me now."

"You called me Granger, but that's not my name anymore."

Draco stilled, his palm still flush against her hip. "Well, you're still—"

"My name is Hermione Malfoy." She shrugged, sliding up the curve of him. "I distinctly remember that I didn't hyphenate. Of course, should I choose to, I hope you wouldn't mind if I used my maiden name in the chance I pursue political—"

"I don't really think _you_ care if I mind—"

She hummed. "You're right. I don't, but I'd appreciate it if it wasn't a sore spot."

"I don't mind. Never. I've called you Granger for years though."

The shirt around her upper thighs rode up, and Draco kept his eyes trained on her face. She pursed her lips together and the edge of her lips lifted. "Actually," Granger glanced around and then down at herself. "Last night, did we…?"

He shook his head. "You were pissed; plus, you passed out in the time it took me to get from the bed to the wardrobe."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Well, there's a certain amount of time the Ministry allots for…consummation, isn't there?"

In all its absurdity, the answer was yes and the answer was twenty-four hours. It wasn't anyone's business when they decided to sleep together, but there was binding magic laced into their rings at the very least.

The ceremony might have skipped binding _them_ together, but the same couldn't be said for their forced agreement to the Ministry.

She pulled the hem of the shirt up, and he pressed her hands down to her sides. "What are you—Malfoy, this isn't negotiable. Unless you don't…"

Draco winced. "There are few things I can think that I would rather do than sleep with you right now, but I'm not going to treat it like a bloody chore and I don't want you to either."

A strangled sound came from her as her lips parted.

He slid out of bed, and immediately wanted to cover her body with his. "Breakfast, Malfoy. Move it."

* * *

She didn't bother to put on any pants before padding down the hall, nor did she change out of his shirt. With her lips tugged down into a frown, she sat across from him. "We have to—"

Draco rolled his eyes. "We married at 4:57 in the afternoon, love. Rest assured I will shag you before regular business hours are over."

"I want to talk then." She leaned back in her chair, irritation no longer sweeping across her face. "I think I was going to bring it up last night, but I was drunk—"

"You mentioned some other things, though."

Her tongue poked against the inside of her cheek. "I remember and I'm not going to take them back. What I want to say is that we don't know one another as adults, but I would like to. The past few weeks have been long and at times, trying." She clasped her hands together.

He slumped in his chair, ankles crossed and looked at her. "You're holding something back."

"I'm just going to say what's on my mind. You'll do the same?"

With his tongue tucked against the roof of his mouth, Draco made a sound of agreement.

"I'm terrified." Granger blurted.

"Why?"

She looked away from him, and sighed. "The compatibility charm was never fully tested by Unspeakables. What if it isn't accurate for romantic relationships?"

Draco realized in the breath of a second that he was not the only one hoping for more. She was taking this seriously, so seriously that she appeared she might be sick at any moment. "Considering it was developed by you, it's probably accurate."

"But it could be—"

"I agree that it could possibly measure a platonic relationship" —her face fell— "but then there's the fact that I've never wanted to be platonic with you in my life."

She hiccupped. It was ill-timed and adorable.

"And no matter how we got here, that's still true." Several seconds passed, and he wanted to reach for her, but they weren't quite there, he didn't think.

"Then there's the matter that we're expected to have a child and what if we fall apart? What if this implodes and we create a terrible environment for our child?"

He had to swallow that one. "Hey," Draco murmured, coming round the table and crouching down in front of her. "Those worries are valid, but all we can do is work to make sure it doesn't happen. No matter what, Granger, I swear to you that I will never hurt a child."

"It's so far away, I don't know why I'm worried."

Draco knew why. She was already petrified she might not be able to have children at all.

"Are you sure about this?"

"About you?" he asked. "Of course I am. The question is what you want, Granger."

She licked her lips. "I want to give this a proper go." Granger slid to the floor with him, her thighs bracketing his and kissed him until breakfast burned.

Draco pulled back and asked breathlessly, "Takeaway?"

Nodding, she knotted her fingers in his hair while his hands tightened on her waist.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the smut is coming! Three chapters left for me to write in order to wrap this project up.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you waiting for the smut, here it is!

* * *

He wasn't going to fuck this up.

It was a chance, a fragile sort of thing that felt as though it could fall apart if he did the tiniest thing wrong even though he knew that wasn't the case. She wanted this too, Draco reminded himself. Knowing it wasn't only him gave him some peace of mind, but then his mind would return to the fact that he'd fucked everything up before and it wouldn't be a surprise to anyone who knew him if he did it again.

"You look like you're going to be sick." Granger stood in the doorway, his shirt now gone and replaced with a sundress that had him ogling her thighs. "Are you alright?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"That means no," she laughed. "So, you're worried too, then?"

Draco swallowed. "You look pretty."

She'd tamed her hair, as much as it could be, and it dropped over her shoulder, wild curls that he wanted to twist around his fingers. With her footsteps barely there against the carpet, she crossed the gap between them in his bedroom, and sat beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath their weight. "You know, you're going to work yourself into a complex."

"You mentioned how each time you tried to speak with me, the memory of us came back."

Granger pulled his hand from his neck and pressed it to her cheek. "That was true, but now I know you were lying to me. While that upset me, it doesn't now. I'm happy you're here and instead of panicking about how this will turn out, it's going to be day by day. It's hard enough with the Ministry's interference; we shouldn't add to that."

Sliding his fingers along the hem of her dress, Draco toyed with it and smirked when her skin broke into gooseflesh. "You're right."

"I usually am." She stretched up to kiss him, and regardless of how simple the motion was, Draco didn't think he could ever tire of it. "Now, will you please have a good day with me?"

* * *

Once she realized he didn't have a plan at all—which he begrudgingly admitted—Granger slid her hands into his and dragged him into the Floo while promising she had plenty of ideas. She'd asked him beforehand if he would mind taking a trip into the muggle world, and told him there was something she'd always wanted to do, but she wouldn't tell him what it was.

In the heart of muggle London, cars rushed past them while he wished he'd brought a coat.

"I didn't know it was supposed to rain today." Granger held her bag over her head, and droplets of water slid down her neck and shoulders anyway. "If you like, we can—"

"It's just a bit of water. We aren't going to melt."

"You're right that _you_ won't."

He quirked a brow. "Are you implying that I'm not sweet?"

"Surly, sarcastic—" She began to recite as strangers continued to pass them on the sidewalk. "Alright, I'll admit that you're actually very sweet, but I don't think you've revealed that to many witches. Certainly no wizards."

"You were going to tell me what we're here for." A taxi sped by, hitting a puddle at an inopportune time and drenching them both. "You bag is charmed, isn't it?" He was careful to keep his voice low.

She nodded. "Well, I was thinking about that and it's more for _me_ , which isn't really fair—"

"Good God, please tell me where you want to go. I will take you anywhere you want to go, Granger. I'm sure I'll have a bloody fantastic time as long as you're there." His hands were shoved in his pockets and there was no time to catch her when she pressed up against him. "What are you—?"

He expected a kiss honestly, but Granger slid her arms under the thin jacket he wore and buried her face in his chest. "You're warm," came the muffled reply. "Wearing a dress may not have been my best idea, but I thought you'd like it."

Oh, he certainly did, especially with the onslaught of rain causing it to stick her like a second skin.

A man passed them then, his eyes dangerously low on her arse.

"Please don't mistake how much I love this dress, but we should find a shop and a change of clothes." His voice was crisp, a sharp edge in his voice.

"Someone stared at my arse, didn't they?" Granger laughed. "Come on, I know a good shop near here."

* * *

"I'm going to try these on," she told him quietly, and tilted her head toward the changing room. "I'll be right back."

Still gripping a pair of jeans that she'd grabbed for him, pleading with big brown eyes that he wore them, Draco stared after her.

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling and he caught on.

Dodging the elderly sales clerk that had been watching them since they entered the store wasn't easy, considering she was _still_ watching him. Desperate to cause a distraction, he focused on wandless magic while his hand was in his pocket and smirked when a rack across the store fell over.

And then all the clothes on the wall collapsed and she shrieked.

Draco rushed into the changing room a second after, and found that Granger had left the door unlocked. "You're lucky it was me, and not some other bloke who just happened to wander in here."

"That woman—"

He shook his head. "She'll be busy for a while. Don't worry about her." Draco took a step forward, cupping both sides of her face and slanted his lips to hers. "Quiet, Granger or you'll get us caught."

She wrapped her legs around his waist when he lifted her, and pinned her to the wall. "Draco…" she whimpered. Granger dug her heels into the bottom of his back while he kissed down her jaw, then her neck and nibbled the sensitive flesh where her throat met her shoulder. "You're going to leave a mark."

God, he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do.

Granger whimpered as she dug her fingers into his hair, nails scraping his scalp as her head tipped backward and hit the wall. "I really do— _oh, God,_ "

He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against him.

"Need to try on the clothes," she managed raggedly. "Women's sizes are always off—"

Draco pulled her away from the wall, still kissing her and sat on the bench in the corner of the dressing room. "Of course, how could I forget?" A low hiss slipped between his teeth when she ground down on him, wiggling her hips while her nails dug into his shoulders. "Let me help with that."

Pulling the hem of her dress up, he watched her eyes darken and Granger let him pull it over her head.

 _Fucking hell_.

"The dress is charmed," Granger whispered against his lips. "It's strapless, you see and I didn't have a bra to wear with it."

He was going to die.

She sat in his lap while wearing only a pair of lace knickers that he was certain had been chosen with him in mind as he fingered the delicate fabric. "Naughty witch,"

Granger pulled his hand to her breast, and leaned down again. "How long do you think she'll be busy?"

They heard another rack fall, another shout.

"Draco, you _didn't_."

He was authorized to use magic in the muggle world, and it wouldn't be flagged for something as simple as a shop going through a series of hijinks. "Do you want to come?" Draco traced the words into her skin, his lips sliding across her collarbone and down. "Right here while you sit in my lap?"

A broken, little mewl slipped out of her.

Draco's lips skimmed the softness of her breast, his tongue darting out as he lifted her on his knees until his tongue rolled across her nipple and she tensed. "Let go, Granger."

She mutters that she wishes she could cast a silencing charm, but then she says there's something so thrilling about the prospect of being caught. Her hips pressed to him again, the thinness of her knickers doing nothing while she rubs herself against the feel of his cock through his trousers. She whispered his name, and whimpered as he dragged his nails down her back, muttering that she hoped he left marks and that she needed him,

He pulled her knickers to the side, half-tempted to break rules even farther by vanishing them all together, but he didn't.

Granger's hot against his fingers, her folds slick and she whined into the crook of his neck as he took his time to draw each sound out of her, all for himself. "You're teasing—"

He was and he shouldn't.

Two fingers slid into her, and he watched in awe as her back arched and her breasts shook. Draco dragged his thumb across her clit, each stroke quicker than the last as his fingers pumped into her. "Will you answer my question?"

"I forgot the question," she laughed weakly.

He loved her, and he'd known that, but _fuck,_ he loved her. "Do you want to come?"

She gasped under her breath and told him that was such a _stupid_ question. Her hips bucked against him and Granger's teeth cut into the plush of her lower lip. "Yes, right here."

Draco curled his fingers in her hair and closed his mouth around her nipple, swiping his tongue across it and angled his fingers to make her cry out. Watching her bite her lip to keep quiet while holding onto his shoulders, he wanted to unzip his trousers and watch her sink down on him.

Time was ticking down though. The stern looking shop clerk would eventually fix the mess he made and notice that something was happening because Granger really wasn't quiet at all. Not that he wanted her to be either.

"I'm close," she stuttered. " _Faster."_

"You are so fucking bossy."

"You fucking _like it_."

He did.

His fingers curled inside her one last time, the roughness of his thumb sliding over her clit and she cried out much, _much_ louder than all of the previous times combined.

Granger clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh, no."

Draco grinned and pulled her down to kiss her until she was quiet again. "We should probably go."

"You're…" She gestured down, fingers brushing his erection through his trousers. "It's hardly fair is all."

With her still staring at him, he slid his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean.

It was worth the reaction when red sprung to her cheeks. "Draco?"

He was still tracing the swell of her breath. "What, Granger?"

"I think I'd like to go home now."

While Draco wasn't laughing _at_ her, he didn't think she appreciated the fact that there was a difference. "You promised me an all-day date, love. I intend to collect."

She groaned and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. "You probably won't like it."

"We went over this."

"Besides, most newlyweds spend the majority of their time shagging."

Snorting, Draco pushed his hair back. "We're not most newlyweds, in case you haven't noticed. Tell me what you want to do."

She sighed. "There's an art studio in London where couples go. Anyway, we would both paint a picture while following along with the instructor. There's wine supplied as well, and I'm sure they carry stronger booze as well, if you'd like." Much as she tried, Granger couldn't curb her excitement just talking about it.

His lips brushed her temple. "We'll go then."

By the time they escaped the dressing room, her dress was dry and she opted to wear it anyway while sending a wink his way. He bought the muggle jeans, because she'd wanted him too, and the sales clerk apparently wasn't fooled at all as she stared at them.

In the taxi, he slid a hand along the inside of her leg and up her thigh, while whispering in her ear that he would bet he could have her cunt tightening around his fingers by the time they reached their destination.

* * *

Granger huffed when he wouldn't show her his canvas throughout the class, even pouting at one point which had come very close to causing him to cave. The couple in front of them was friendly enough, explaining that they had been together for two years, but Draco spotted no ring on the woman's finger. When they asked how long Draco and Hermione had been together, he paused.

He hadn't expected a question like this to pop up.

"We were married yesterday," Granger said smoothly, dragging a brush down her canvas—which was hidden from him out of playful spite. "We've known each other since school though; we even dated previously." She gave a little laugh and spun it as a charming little tale of reconnecting.

"It sounds like fate," Claire said, and she looked toward her boyfriend, who missed it entirely. "Congratulations."

Muggle liquor was stronger than Ogdens, and he imagined that was partially due to the terrible taste of it as it slid down his throat. "The booze is cheap." Draco whispered.

She squashed his foot and sipped red wine. "Oh, is it not to the Malfoy standard?" Her eyes were bright with amusement and she tried to peek at his canvas. "Malfoy, come on—"

He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Married couples don't normally call the other by their surnames, Granger."

"Or their maiden names." She sniffed.

When no one in the group was looking—the instructor had become more interested in her wine then her palette, and the couple in front of them had begun to bicker—Draco dipped his finger into blue paint and dotted Granger's nose.

She flicked a brush in his direction and red stretched diagonally across his face. "You little witch."

"You did it first!"

"Let's keep our paint on the canvas!" The woman at the head of the room clapped her hands and poured another glass of wine.

At the end, Granger showed him a sunset that looked better than the example, and he said as much. He watched her cheeks fill with color while she tucked a curl behind her ear and she pointed to his canvas.

"Will you show me yours now?"

Suddenly, he wished he'd painted the bloody sunset instead of ignoring the point of the class. She might think him odd, and he tried to object and say that maybe it wasn't very good, but she grabbed the canvas and turned it around.

A strangled sound lodged in her throat and regret swept over him. Rubbing the back of his neck, heat claiming the inside of his cheeks and he hoped it didn't show on the outside, he said, "The sunset wasn't inspiring."

"Draco, this is—" Granger carefully leaned it against the table and slid her palms up his chest while stretching up.

"Must have been some sunset," the boyfriend from earlier joked.

Keen as ever, Granger dropped away from him and turned the painting around. "No, he painted me." She wrapped one arm around his waist and smiled up at him.

"Holy—" Claire began. "Did you study art?"

"My mother and father hired several tutors when I was a child." Draco said, pleased that it was not entirely a lie.

The boyfriend's gaze climbed from Draco's feet to his face. "Makes sense."

He didn't care for the man's tone. From the looks of it, neither did Granger but she steered him to the side and asked quietly, "I would actually like to go home now."

"We could get lunch." It'd always been fun to work her up the way he was, and he knew that if she could, Granger would have Apparated them out of that shop and into their flat in a moment. "No lunch?"

She shook her head. "Perhaps an early dinner instead." With a polite goodbye to the rest of the class, she wrapped both of their paintings individually and pulled him out onto the street. "It's incredible."

Draco watched her curls bounce as she led him down the street in a hurry until she turned down a seedy looking alley and brought him all the way to the end of it where they could stand in an inlet of the wall, cut off from the rest of the street should anyone look down it.

Standing against him with his hand coming to rest on her waist, Granger drew her wand and they vanished from the spot.

They landed in his bedroom, and he arched a brow. "Awfully presumptuous of you."

She leaned the paintings against the wall, and dropped her hands to the button of his trousers. "I've been waiting to finish what we started since we left that shop. My knickers had been soaked all morning." Unbuttoning his trousers, she dragged the zipper down while pulling it away from him. "I would have shagged you then."

His voice was hoarse when he said, "I wanted to hear you crying out without worrying someone inevitably interrupting us."

"Like it would have stopped you."

It was true and he'd been about to say as much, but she dropped to her knees in front of him and Draco found that he wasn't sure what to say at all. Until— "Take off the dress."

"Shall I leave the knickers?"

He nodded. He'd drag them off of her later with his teeth. Draco watched as she pulled the edge of his boxers down, and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Hard in her hand, she stilled for a single moment—thought it felt like longer—before flicking the tip of her tongue against the head of him.

"Fuck!"

Her lips swallowed him; her tongue moved against him and she continued to stroke him in time with her mouth.

Curls were crushed in his hand as he gripped her hair, guiding her forward and he groaned her name. What spilled out of him was a string of curses, and her name over and over again as she gripped his thighs and leaned into every inch of him.

He was barely able to tell her to get up, practically pleaded with her to get on the bed, and he pulled her hair—maybe too roughly—and she moaned around him.

They stumbled backward together, her knees meeting the back of the bed, and she crawled backward. There was a damp spot on her knickers and he was so mind-numbingly fucked. Draco pushed his jeans down, and kicked them to the side while pulling his shirt up and over his head before joining her.

"Come here," he rasped. Laying beside her, he dipped his fingers between her legs and rubbed her clit through thin lace.

His hips jerked when she closed her fist around his cock and turned to hide her face. "No more waiting," Granger whimpered, her thighs trembling and nearly closing on his hand. She tilted his face toward hers, and hitched her leg over his hip. "Draco."

He did drag her knickers down, the scrap of lace trapped between his teeth when he pushed her onto his back and rested in the cradle of her thighs. Draco managed to murmur that she was so fucking stunning before lifting her legs over his shoulders and sliding into her.

Hermione's back arched and she cried out while holding onto his forearms. " _Oh…"_ Nails dug into the flesh of his arms, sure to leave crescent shaped marks that he would relish later.

Shifting his hips, he thrust into her, feeling her cunt tighten around him with each shuddering breath that left her.

She reached between her legs, fingers barely sliding over her clit as the snap of his hips quickened. "Will you touch yourself for me?" He groaned. "Will you play with your clit for me until you come on my cock?"

Her lips shaped a word, but nothing came out, and she nodded fervently, two fingers circling the bundle of nerves as her hips lifted off the bed. "Draco—Draco—"

If he were better, he thought darkly, Draco wouldn't have been as close to his own climax as he was, but he was teetering dangerously close to an edge.

But first he wanted— _needed_ —to see her fall apart.

Granger's eyes fluttered shut as he replaced her fingers with his own, and pressed his thumb to her clit. In deliberate, quick strokes, he watched the pressure build in the way her back arched, the way her toes curled while her legs rested over his shoulders until her lips formed a pretty little _o_ and she sucked in a breath.

"Come on my cock, love," he growled.

Another thrust, harder than the rest and her shriek surely echoed in the flat.

One last swirl of his fingers and Hermione's hands fisted in the sheets as she whimpered his name and held onto him with one hand. Her chest rose and fell with short, laboured breaths, and she was boneless against him. "That was so bloody good."

Draco remained between her legs and knelt down, swiping his tongue over her folds, all the way to her clit, and watched her body spasm. He waited to see if she would say she was too sensitive—which he would understand—but she didn't.

"I'm a mess," she moaned. "And you just—I don't think you want to—"

"My come is dripping out of your pretty cunt and down your legs," he rasped, his voice thick. "It doesn't bother me. Besides, what was it you said? That most newlyweds spent all day in bed?'

Feigning coy, she lifted herself up onto her elbows and nodded. "I did say that." Rather than pushing him away, she gripped his hair and nudged him down.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This year has been an odd year, and my creativity is largely spent. I'm participating in some fests, but I don't think I'll be releasing any major projects for the rest of the year. But I'm still working on my smut collection and some things for ACoTaR, just for fun. I hope the world is treating all of you well! 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Two weeks after they marry, Granger's voice carries over dinner eaten on the floor of their sitting room—while arguing about magical theory—that she went to her second appointment at St Mungos. She tore off a bit of naan, having already eaten through her curry, and he has no idea why she ate it separately so often, and popped it into her mouth. She stared at the lamp to his right while chewing, seemingly deciding what to say next.

"They're fairly confident that pregnancy will be dangerous for me," her voice shook, but only barely and if he hadn't known her so well, he wouldn't have known. "A specialist sat down with me today, actually. She's of the mind that pregnancy may not be an option for me at all."

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bowl. "Why didn't you tell me you had an appointment today? I thought it was on Thursday." Draco had made sure to remember after missing the first appointment.

Granger nodded, and tore off another piece of naan. "It was, but they fire called this morning. Since they had a cancellation, I thought I would go ahead. The anticipation has been killing me; though, I suppose the truth isn't really much better."

"Why didn't you call? I would have—"

"I did call, but Ron told me you were out with Harry."

"I could have—"

She bobbed her head, a smile beginning at the corner of her mouth. "I _know_ , but it was your first day back from your suspension. The last thing I wanted to do was pull you back from work, even if it was only patrols. I was fine."

His voice tight, Draco spoke, "You're not fine, but even if you _were_ , that's not my entire point."

Granger paused in her fidgeting. "Oh."

"I don't want to miss appointments. It was a mistake not being there the first time, and it's not one I intend on making again."

A smile spread across her face and she nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. My next appointment is on the fifteenth of July."

Barring a mission that sent him away overnight, Draco wouldn't miss it.

* * *

On his birthday, Granger came to the Ministry and slipped into the office he shared with Potter. "Harry said I would find you here." Carrying a plate in her hands with her bag over her shoulder, she rounded the desk and leaned against the edge. "Good God, did they save all the paperwork you missed when you were gone?"

He snorted and pushed the stack of parchment away. "I'm assuming Potter neglected to tell you that he hardly does his paperwork."

Her nose twitched.

"This isn't all of his, however. A senior Auror was terminated earlier this morning, and now they've given me his work."

Granger knew about the inner workings of the DMLE, ranks, and processes. That was the reason she smiled so broadly at him. "That's wonderful."

"Sure," he muttered. Draco slipped his fingers through her belt loops and tugged her forward to ultimately sit her on top of his desk, right where his work had been moments earlier. "They're not planning on promoting me though, Granger. Especially not before I'm even thirty. But I'll get a bump in my wages for closing these, which will be recorded in the quarterly report. It's their way of _apologising_ for putting me on administrative leave for such a shite reason."

She looked pretty sitting on his desk.

She always looked pretty, but now when he tried to do anything, Draco knew that he'd think of her just as she was now.

Draco leaned back in his chair, wishing he could pull her into his lap for a proper snog without worrying if his partner would barge in. "Did you bring me something for my birthday?" When he'd left that morning, he found that her side of the bed had been cold for quite some time and the sound of her cursing could be heard from down the hall.

"I did and I tried them before bringing them here."

"Right, is that because the last ones could have broken my teeth?"

Her eyes narrowed. "If you don't mind yourself, _I'm_ going to break your teeth." Granger crossed her legs and pulled the foil from the plate. "You said that chocolate was your favorite, so…"

"Fuck me, those look delicious." Draco grabbed one, and spotted her triumphant smile. "Are they as good as they look?"

"They are." She waited for him to bite into it, and she was right.

"These are the best cookies I've ever had in my life."

"Thank you. I had a good time making them, so I think I'll take some to the orphanage tomorrow as well."

Maybe he would drop by. Mainly for her, of course, but the _cookies, fuck._ "They're sure to love them."

Granger's fingers curved around the edge of the desk, and she leaned forward. "How's the birthday boy's day so far?"

"Better, now." He ran his palms up her calves, fingers tracing paths through the denim. "I tragically didn't get to spend a morning in bed with my wife though because when I woke up, she was gone."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll have plenty of time tonight for that." Granger turned and reached into her bag, pulling out a large parcel. "This was delivered just before I left. It looked important, so I thought I would bring it."

 _Locke_ read in the upper right corner, and Draco pushed it back into her lap. "It's for you, Granger. Open it."

Muttering, "It's your birthday," under her breath, she pressed her nail under the wax seal and pulled the parchment out. "Mr. Malfoy," she read. "It's our pleasure to know that you have considered us as an option in your journey to becoming parents. Our program is based on daily potions combined with standard appointments to monitor for complications.

"In regards to your question, our services have been approved by the British Board of Health and reviewed by St Mungos'. I have also reached out to the British Ministry to ensure this treatment is allowed with the current law that has taken effect recently, and am pleased to report that it is. If you should like to speak with me in person, I am available Monday through Friday. When you and your wife have made a decision to move forward, you may enclose a cheque, or send the money from your Gringotts vault…" Granger trailed off, her eyes watering and she stared at him.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he had overstepped.

She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "I thought that we planned to take this slow?"

He nodded. "We were—we are. Granger, I just want you to know that you have options, no matter what your healer tells you. This process can take years as well, and even if you're not with me someday, I want you to have it all. Everything you want."

Granger hiccuped. She slid off the desk and into his lap while wrapping her arms around his neck. "I don't mean to cry, I just—"

Smoothing a hand down her back, Draco turned his face into her hair. "It's alright, Hermione."

The door cracked open and Potter put one foot through the doorway before noticing the scene. "Uh—"

"Get out." Draco barked and slammed the door shut with a twist of his wrist.

* * *

True to his thoughts, Draco did stop by the orphanage, and it was partially due to the cookies that had been promised to him if he came to read stories near bedtime for the younger group of children. Granger had promised _other_ things as well though, which he suspected she had done only because she wanted to, and not because she believed she needed to.

Lingering in the entryway, he peered up at the vaulted ceiling and the light shining through facets of crystal, and stood in place, his hands slid easily into his pockets.

It never failed to set his stomach on edge each time he was moments from seeing her.

There were giggles just around the corner, followed by a quiet _shush_ , and she was in front of him. Granger always smiled when she saw him. Sometimes, it was only a slight twitch of her lips, or a subtle curve to her mouth, and he was never sure if she realized she was smiling. "You're early." Stretching up on her toes, Granger pressed a barely there kiss to his cheek.

"I decided to leave Potter with the paperwork today." He said smoothly.

"No, you didn't." She took him by the hand and led him down a short corridor before stepping to the side into a large bedroom. "You know," Granger drawled, a wide smile blowing across her face that he was certain he'd never seen before. "You can't hear a bedtime story if you're not in _bed._ "

Eight children—he'd done a quick head count—scrambled onto their beds and dashed under the blankets.

"They like to be tucked in," Hermione whispered, running the tip of her finger along his pulse inside his wrist. "Would you take the right side while I take the left?"

He nodded, but he had not a single idea how to tuck a child into bed. Still eager to impress her at any chance he got, Draco watched her discreetly and followed her lead.

"'Mione does it better."

"'Mione kisses me on the forehead."

"Miss 'Mione," a polite curly headed girl spoke, "checks under the bed."

He blinked. _She checks under the bed…?_

"For monsters, Draco." Granger giggled.

The replies went like that, each of them quick to point out that while they might like him—or, he hoped they did—Granger did a better job when it came to bedtime, and he wasn't surprised in the least. As he finished, he went to her, and she nodded to a chair at the head of the room.

"Pick a book."

"Do they have a favorite?" He muttered under his breath, angling his body toward hers. "If they do, they'll be sure to tell me."

She laughed, and it was his favorite sound. "Green spine."

As Draco sunk into the chair, he flipped to the title page and began reading a fairytale that his own mother had read to him as a child, and he didn't notice when Granger vanished through the doorway until every child was fast asleep.

* * *

After carefully closing the door not to wake any children, Draco crept through the manor while moonlight streamed through the windows. He wasn't sure where Hermione had gone, but as he ventured farther from the room and deeper into the winding corridors of the large estate, he recognized humming.

He heard it all the time—while she cooked, while she organized parchment on a desk in the once guest room that was now her office, and when they walked, hand in hand—so he followed it. Draco found her standing with her back to him, swaying in front of a bay window. At first, he couldn't tell what it was she held in her arms, but it was a baby nestled in her arms, her hair tumbling over her shoulder.

The giggle that followed didn't belong to his wife, but the infant who reached up to grab her hair.

"You have quite the grip." She whispered. "Ow, don't pull my hair!"

Somehow, Draco managed not to laugh as his chest swelled.

Granger returned to humming, and then she sang until the laughter stopped and she carefully laid the baby in a bassinet. "Mippy!" Her voice was soft in comparison to the crack that signalled the house elf's arrival. "You'll take care of Henry tonight?"

Mippy's ears flapped and she bounced on the balls of her feet. "Mippy will watch him all night."

"Thank you, Mippy." As she finally turned, and noticed him, Draco gave a small wave. "How was bedtime?"

"I think I've learned how to speak in several different voices now." He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. "I transferred the money from my vault this morning."

She froze mid-step, and nearly tripped when he didn't pause. "You—that's a lot of money." Granger chewed her lips and dragged her fingers through her hair. "I know that you're going to tell me that money is no object for a Malfoy, but I saw the amount. It's so incredibly sweet that you want to do this for me, but it's—"

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's done. I have a choice as to what I do with what's in my vaults, Granger and if I want to spend all of it, down to the last knut, on you then that's what I'll do."

Frowning, she shook her head. "What if it doesn't work?"

"Then we'll move on to the next option. You can't possibly believe I've only come across one, have you? I'm offended."

It didn't earn a smile. "No, I didn't think that, but this must be the best option and if the best option doesn't work then what hope is there?"

All he imagined was her holding a blond haired baby in her arms, singing while tickling his sides, and he promised quietly that he would do anything to make it happen for her.

He told her that they would manage, and that they would find a way and she whispered that she had never known him to be so stubborn when it came to hope.

* * *

Restless beside him, Granger couldn't sleep fully and had kicked him in the shin no less than three times in as many minutes and had hurried Crooks off the bed too.

Draco wouldn't complain about that.

Moments later, she flung an arm out though and nailed him in the nose, oddly reminiscent of a memory, and water sprung to his eyes. "Fuck!" A one syllable curse was dragged over several seconds and she certainly stirred, but she didn't wake.

He moved to the couch the second time she hit him.

* * *

Something wedged uncomfortably in his hip and Draco realized as he began to wake, that it was actually his wand and it was dangerously close to snapping. How embarrassing would it have been to report to the DMLE with a pathetic piece of wood broken in two? As quickly as he realized it, his wand was gone and there was a light tap against the glass table beside the armrest.

"Why are you sleeping on the sofa?" The cushion dipped and he opened his eyes to see Granger, a furrow to her brow, and she didn't look pleased at all. "Draco?"

"You punched me," Draco threw one arm over his eyes, and reached blindly for his wand. "Would you mind terribly closing the drapes?"

She laughed at him, but indulged him. "What do you mean I punched you?"

"I mean that you rolled over in your sleep and hit me not once, but twice. You kicked me too."

A heavy sigh filled the space between them and he peeked out from under his arm. "I thought you decided to sleep here because you might have realized I was having a nightmare."

Why hadn't he considered that? At the least, he could have woken her to ask if she was alright, but he'd been so bloody tired after a double patrol shift that he hadn't thought of anything at all. "I hadn't realized."

"That's comforting." Her hand rested on his upper thigh, warmth bleeding through the heavy fabric of his auror uniform. "I'm sorry I hit you. Actually, I think I can see a welt from my knuckles."

It wouldn't surprise him in the least. "Do you have nightmares often?"

"Worried you might wake up to me hitting you again?" Granger made it easy to brush off as a joke, but he did the opposite.

Sitting up, the sheet bunching around his waist, he shook his head. "No, I'm worried as to whether you're dealing with this more than you should be."

Where there had been a smile, there was nothing and his stomach twisted. "I usually don't, but I've noticed during times of stress that they have a tendency to crop up." She crossed her right leg under her left and stared at the ceiling. "There's also the matter that I've been remembering Bellatrix quite often recently."

Anger thrummed in his veins. The day the three of them had been brought to Malfoy Manor was a day he'd worked tirelessly to leave behind. He'd watched in horror while she bent, and screamed and did not break.

Even now, he wasn't sure how this witch could sit opposite him so easily. The image of her writhing against a linoleum floor while red trickled from her arm and her eyes locked on his came vividly, squashing his lungs in one strike.

"Why?"

Granger climbed into his lap, ignoring the surprise that must have spread across his face, and pulled the blankets over both of them. "You've got that look on your face. I'd know it anywhere, and before you start off on a tangent that this is somehow your fault, let me remind you that the world doesn't revolve around you, Draco Malfoy." She brushed his sides, smirking when he flinched, and pinned him with a look that dared him to argue. "I don't think of the war. Like you, I also attended therapy. Actually, it's because if there is any reason I'm unable to have children, it will be her fault."

_Oh._

"It'll be like she's won this time."

He pulled her down, and wrapped his arms tight around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder. "I wish I could promise—"

Combing through his messy hair, she laughed a weak laugh that only made his heart clench. "I think I would be more upset if you were telling me that just because it's what I want to hear."

"I would do anything,"

Her breath brushed past the shell of his ear. "I know you would."

* * *

The first appointment was scheduled for a Friday morning, and Draco had no trouble slipping away for two hours to meet Granger in the lobby of St Mungos. He found her pacing the side of the room, the strap of her bag crossing her chest.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're here." She didn't move to hug him, and from her jittering, he thought she might have had too much coffee to drink. Coincidentally, it was the next thing out of her mouth. "I drank a pot of coffee."

Draco coughed. "I had the last cup."

"Yes, but you left early this morning. How were the trainees, by the way? So, after you left, I brewed another because I knew if I ever got back to sleep, I wouldn't want to get out of bed." Granger wrapped her arms around her middle. "I got quite a bit done this morning, really. Lucius needed help at the orphanage, and I went to a few shops for—"

If she didn't take a moment to breath, she'd be short of breath. He feared that she might even faint and while Hermione Granger was not a woman who needed to be policed, he hoped she would let it slide this time. He whispered her surname, and angled his body toward her while blocking her from a nosy older witch who sat just behind him. "Take a breath. It's the first appointment. It will be fine."

"You aren't supposed to tell me—"

"It may be a rough start, but we're going to manage." Draco sat with her, and squeezed her hand occasionally when her knee jumped up and down.

It was funny, he thought, how the reality of things never quite set in until certain events.

He was seated next to his wife in the uncomfortable seats of St Mungos, and he knew that she was, indeed, his wife but had never completely realized it until a healer called out, "Hermione Malfoy," and she smiled at him.

_Hermione fucking Malfoy._

* * *

While Granger and Healer Minely discussed what to expect while starting potions, Draco remained quiet. As a matter of fact, he had every intention of staying that way unless spoken to since none of this required his input.

And he wasn't going to offer it either, unless asked.

"It's also important to note that these potions have been extremely successful when it comes to increasing your levels of fertility, and chance of pregnancy." The healer crossed one leg over the other, and tied her hair up while fanning herself with a clipboard. "For the first week, you will take one potion daily with a full glass of water. It would be best to err on the side of caution of eating breakfast. Most patients experience heavy nausea as well so I suggest eating a light meal."

Granger reached across the space between them to link their fingers together and Healer Minely's eyes dropped down before she smiled widely.

"After this first week, your body will adjust and we will begin upping the dosage. If you notice any worrying shifts in your health, please send an owl immediately. If it worries you, I would rather you pop in for an emergency scan than stay home. Do you have any questions I can answer."

Without missing a second, Granger had one and he had a silly thought of her raising her hand. "You mentioned I may notice other side effects. What should I expect?"

"Increased appetite, certainly. There is also a chance of weight gain due to the ingredients used to preserve potency. Sudden shifts in mood have been experienced in twenty-six-percent of patients, but eighty-nine-percent had reported a dramatic increase in sex drive."

Granger blinked. "Oh, I'm not sure it could be any—" She swallowed, visibly regretting her words. "I'm not sure that will happen."

He stomped down the urge to laugh, and waited for the healer to leave the room before looking at her. "Granger—"

Her fingers were in his face in an instant. "Don't you dare."

"All I want to point out is that you've basically just told our nice healer that we shag a lot already. You're not worried about an increase in your sex drive." He snickered while avoiding the slap that narrowly missed his thigh.

Next time she wouldn't miss.

Granger rolled her eyes. "If that's a side effect for _me_ , we'll never leave the bloody bed."

Sighing wistfully, he breathed, "I never thought I would say this, but I miss suspension."


	16. Chapter 16

The deadline was two weeks away, and his partner still hadn't revealed any plans to rectify that. "I wouldn't mind being reassigned a new partner," Draco froze mid-step as a group of children shot out a shop in Diagon. "Granger might mind though"

Potter blew out a breath, ridiculous fringe flying upward and shot Draco an obscene gesture. "Thanks for your concern." Sarcasm dripped heavily from his words.

"She did mention though, how a couple weeks ago she popped into your flat and got a surprise. Granger didn't recognize who it was, of course, considering she told me that she could barely see either of you while you stumbling down the hall."

Turning a shade paler, Harry twitched uncomfortably. "I don't want to talk about this with you here."

"So, you planned on not talking to me about it at all?" As they passed another stretch of shops, Potter yanked him into an alley, his face pinker than it had been seconds earlier.

Raising his hand away from the view of the street, he dispelled a glamour and right there, Draco could see a gold band wrapped around his finger.

"Holy shite," he breathed. Draco still didn't understand for certain why his partner had chosen to hide this, but he could guess. "When did this happen?"

"The night Hermione tried to come to my flat." Harry grimaced and shifted his weight. "It hadn't been planned, but it happened and she's—"

His relief that Potter wasn't trying to skirt the law quickly dissipated and he smacked the back of Potter's head.

"Hey!"

"Don't worry, that ridiculous mop of hair is sure to protect you." He growled. "You've apparently been married for little over a month, and you never stopped to think it would be appropriate to tell—"

Harry cast his eyes toward the clouds looming overhead, threatening to crack open at any moment. "I know I should have told you, but—"

"You should have fucking told Hermione!" Draco snapped, teeth baring and his eyes narrowing. "Or have you somehow forgotten about her. About this tall" —he held his hand to the middle of his chest— "curly hair, or I don't know, the one who's saved your life so many bloody times—"

Now, Harry's face really did drain of colour. "She's been busy, and I know it's been an adjustment—"

"Don't lie to me." He nudged a large rock with the toe of his boot and shook his head. "Whatever your reasons are, there was no reason to keep it from her. I assume you're concerned about the press due who you _are_ , and you wanted to protect this witch for as long as you could."

"Yes."

"But I'm not going to lie to Granger about it." Throngs of people still continued to pass behind him, and neither of them turned to see if anyone was listening. "I'm not going to give her a reason to be cross with me on your behalf."

Potter started to laugh. "I'll tell her myself, just give me until the end of the day."

He didn't want to give him even that, but Draco nodded before turning to walk out of the alley, nearly knocking over a witch. "Pardon me, miss. Are you alright?"

She didn't answer, and she didn't lift the brim of her hat, and honestly, as an Auror, Draco should have recognized that something was off.

* * *

They had plans to meet at the Leaky Cauldron, as weekend tradition mandated, since there hadn't been time to do so since the beginning of the current political climate. Draco found Hermione and Pansy were the first ones there, seated closely together at the bar while Granger sipped water. As he neared them—and neither of them noticed—he overhead the end of the conversation.

"—not drinking?" Pansy smiled at the bartender who slid a glass her way and she offered it to Granger. "Just a sip if you like."

Shaking her head, but still laughing under her breath with the corners of her eyes crinkling, Granger said, "I'm on a new set of potions, and I'm not sure how booze will affect it. Since I'd rather be safe than sorry, I'll pass for tonight."

Then a glass of Ogdens was placed in front of her, and he thought it was strange.

Draco tapped her on the shoulder and she glanced up at him. He bent down to kiss her while ignoring the obnoxious gagging sounds Pansy gave. "Have you ordered anything? I already have a tab here." He'd expected it to be an argument, or at the very least, a mildly spirited argument. Granger didn't want his money, and she was happy to pay for anything on her own.

Pansy chimed in. "Already did," and she took a long drink.

"I charged this to your account." Hermione barely held in her laugh as Pansy ordered another drink with the words of _be sure to put it on Malfoy's tab_. "It's for you, not for me."

He leaned against the bar in the space between them, gripping the top of the glass before running his finger around the rim. "Yes, I overheard you say that you weren't."

She busied herself by fidgeting with a button on his jacket, and nodded to her side as he heard Weasley arrive. "I don't want to test my luck, and I've noticed other side effects, so I think it would be safer not to be pissed as well."

"Well, if you're choosing not to drink, I don't have to—"

Granger stretched up while still sitting in her stool. "Don't worry about that. I want you to drink with our friends, and then later we can go home." There was something he couldn't place in the way her voice trailed off.

"You mentioned other side effects? What, exactly?"

Her grin was nearly feral. Slipping her hands under his jacket, she dragged her palms down his sides, then along the waist of his trousers while they were hidden from public view. "I had serious doubts that an increased sex drive would happen to _me."_

He wanted to snog her and set her on the countertop while stepping between her parted legs.

The image only made blood rush to his cock.

"I'm really glad you wore your uniform, too." Granger pecked his cheek and slid off her seat. "Harry's here. I'll be right back."

He drained the glass in one go—partly because he knew what Potter was about to tell her—before asking for another and pushing away from the bar. Catching the sight of Granger coming back to him, Draco was puzzled by the smile still fixed on her face, and over her head, Potter shook his head.

_Fucking hell._

Seated at a table large enough to accomodate them all, Granger ran her fingers along the inside of his thigh beneath it, and carried on conversations as though nothing was happening. Each time her fingers brushed the ridge of his cock, she'd timed it with the same moment that he took a drink.

She smirked every time he nearly choked.

They talked about cases in the DMLE, which had been the least entertaining story, though someone else might not have believed that.

Pansy announced that she planned to open a clothing boutique in Diagon Alley within a year while also mentioning that her parents had sent her an owl containing what wasn't quite an apology, but something that was as close as they would get to one.

As it came to the little minx beside him, she wrapped her hand around his cock through his trousers and slowly stroked him, and the top of her arm hardly moved, so no one noticed at all. "Actually, I do have something I'm excited to share. I've been working with Draco's parents at the orphanage for about a month—which has been a dream job—but today, Lucius and I decided to start a new project as well. Early this morning, house elves were alerted to someone entering the wards, and discovered a toddler on their steps." Her fingers had stopped at this point, and dropped back to her side.

He didn't mind. Draco leaned forward, enthralled by the determined curve to her lips and the way her gaze could be soft and hard at the same time.

"It seems he may have been attacked by a werewolf, and we know there is no record of it within the Department of Magical creatures. Lucius checked this morning. Neither of us, or a healer at St Mungos are sure there will be a change on this month's full moon, but I hope that won't be the case. The fact of the matter is that there's no proper regulation and distribution for Wolfsbane, and Lucius suggested we work to change that."

He linked their fingers together under the table, beaming with pride _for_ her, and then his own irritation set in.

"Potter," Draco drawled. "Do you have anything to share?" All eyes shifted toward his partner, but Harry didn't say anything. In fact, he had the nerve to look shocked. "No? I thought you did, apologies."

As the Canons' latest match became the new topic of conversation, Draco leaned down to whisper in his wife's ear. "Will you come with me for a minute?"

"You're not going to try to shag me in the loo, are you?"

He chuckled. "I've considered that more than a few times in the last hour, but no. Come with me, and bring your handbag with you too." Draco caught the panicked look that flashed across Potter's face, and shook his head.

Leading Granger into the corridor by the loo, Draco tucked his hands in his pockets. "I probably should have told you earlier, but he asked me to let him and I thought he would."

She frowned, and a line formed between her brows. "Who are you talking about? Harry? What was that" —she motioned toward the table— "about?"

"Do you remember when you went to his flat, and there was someone there? You didn't know who it was?"

"I always meant to ask him, but I worried that it wasn't something that lasted, or… Do you know who it is?"

He shook his head. "Potter wouldn't tell me, but apparently— _fuck_ , I'm sorry I didn't just tell you as soon as I got here. Potter married that witch on that same night. I only found out today when I practically forced him into telling me because I pointed out that he only had two weeks."

Granger fell silent. She stared at her shoes, wiggling her toes, and sighed. "I'm not mad at you, if that's what has you worked up. The two of you are close friends, and I would be more upset if you _hadn't_ given him the chance to tell me himself. However, he's had plenty of time."

"I didn't want you to believe I was keeping it from you since you were groping me under the table."

Her cheeks caught fire.

"To be clear, I enjoyed the groping. Very much so."

She looked back at the table where Potter was staring to both of them, and shook her head. "I was going to talk to him now, but I'm really not in the mood to deal with this. He made a choice, and since he's waited so long already, I think he can wait until tomorrow morning."

"If it helps, I think it may have been because he wanted to hide from the press. He probably wanted to protect the witch from them as well."

"I know." She slipped her hand into his as they made their way toward the exit and stepped outside. "But I'm not the press. Maybe I shouldn't feel quite so hurt by it, and I'll probably calm down entirely tomorrow, but I just want to go home with you right now."

"Were you serious about your…"

When they reached the Apparition point, she smirked. "Draco, I've been waiting for you to get home all bloody day and it's been a terribly _long_ day."

They landed in their sitting room, and her fingers were undoing the buttons of his uniform before he managed to say anything. Granger pulled him toward her by his tie, doubling it over her knuckles while stretching up to slam her lips to his. She was a frenzy against him, nipping his lips while guiding him down the hallway, pieces of their clothes falling away as they stumbled together.

A weak mewl slipped between her teeth when he picked her up and she wasted no time at all in wrapping her legs around him.

In a move that had all the air of a well practiced move between the two of them, her head tipped backward as his lips reached her pulse, and her fingers tightened in his hair, her heels digging into the bottom of his back. "Draco—"

They fell into bed together, and she took the chance to straddle his hips while bending down, her hair falling into a curtain, tumbling and tumbling over her shoulder. He tore the lace at her waist, cock hardening when she whimpered and ground down on him.

Sitting up was a struggle as she tried to push him back down, nails cutting into his shoulders, but he sat up fully with her still draped in his lap and her arms over his shoulders. " _Fuck—"_ escaped him in a jagged breath, splintered and raw as she slid against him, the folds of her cunt slick against his cock and his fingers tightened so roughly on her waist, he worried he could bruise her.

"I want—"

Draco didn't want to deny her, and he had no intention of doing so, but she whined anyway when he stopped her from sliding down the length of him. "Hermione—sweetheart, _fuck_ —"

She'd bitten his throat, a sensitive spot that _would_ leave a mark in the morning.

He wanted to do the same to her, love bites where no one could see, but she'd be sore from the feel of them.

Whispering in her ear, Draco promised that he'd take care of her while slipping his hand between their bodies, and found her already soaked.

Muttering that she didn't want to wait, Granger kissed him hard as he laid her down across their shared bed, watching her hair unfurl against the pillows. Nibbling a path down her throat—which he was intimately acquainted with—he circled her clit with two fingers, his pace quickening and slowing with her breathing.

Hermione watched him, her hips lifting off the bed as he knelt between her legs, his hands settling on either of her thighs, and he stroked the sensitive flesh there until she shivered. She was in the middle of telling him that he was taking _too long_ when his tongue dipped between her folds, sliding up her slit and he held her legs open.

"Draco," she moaned, pressing her hips forward, her hands finding his against the wrinkled sheets to lace their fingers together. "Right there—" Hermione shuddered as his tongue moved over her clit, and he sucked it between his lips, rolling his tongue across it in the same motion.

Watching her like this was easily the most enticing thing he'd ever witnessed. Sweat formed on her brow, her cheeks turned pink, and she writhed against him.

Granger knew what she liked—knew that _he_ knew what she liked—and she got off on the play of teasing.

Of bringing her to the edge multiple times over until her cunt was dripping and her thighs shaking.

He dragged his tongue over her clit slowly, and then again faster each time as she cried out his name. Draco sucked on the sensitive bundle again as she came, his teeth grazing just barely, and felt her sit up while sinking her fingers into his hair until she nearly sobbed in relief.

She pushed him to the bed and swung one leg over him while she straddled him. Whispering his name in hushed tones even though they were the only ones in the room, she crushed her lips to his while taking each inch of him torturously slow. "I've been waiting all day for this."

He thought that he might have been waiting too—but he always felt as though he was just waiting to see her again.

Holding onto her hips tightly, Draco sat upright, and watched a bead of sweat drip from her chin and slide between her breasts.

Knotting her fingers in his hair, Hermione gave the smallest sounds to the right of his ear, her nails scraping his scalp as he slid into her.

"I could spend the rest of my life like this," she whispered. "Just like this with you."

He wanted to tell her he loved her, but it was too soon, and it would still be true—perhaps even more so when it was time—and it had always been true.

He watched her. The way her eyes slid closed, and the way she pressed against him harder as he fucked her.

Every bit of her was intoxicating.

It felt monumental by the time that passed while she rode him, lifting herself up on her knees to take him again while he gripped her arse. Granger leaned her forehead to his between the desperate, slow kisses that came when she bent down.

It also felt like she was trying to tell him something.

* * *

The next morning, after joining Granger in the shower, Draco pulled a pair of joggers on and didn't bother with a shirt. The joggers he wore were the first pair he'd ever owned—having never fully adjusted to muggle clothing—but she'd bought them for him and he would be a liar if he said they weren't as comfortable as she promised them to be. This particular piece of muggle fashion had its perks, however. Whenever Granger wore hers, they were more form fitting, and her arse looked fantastic.

Much as he had been taught to open doors for witches in order to be a gentleman, the view wasn't bad either.

With Crooks stubbornly meowing at his heel, the half-Kneazle followed Draco down the corridor until he stopped just before entering the sitting room.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Potter's voice came, and there was a crackle that gave away it was a Floo call.

Draco clenched his jaw when he realized that Potter hadn't even thought to apologize in person.

"I don't understand why you wouldn't think to tell me. I know you wanted to keep it private, but since when does that mean you need to keep it from me?"

Stepping into the room, Draco made sure to avoid the Floo and moved into the kitchen and put the kettle on. The conversation between the two of them didn't go on much longer, and Granger's arms slid around his waist while she pressed her cheek to his back.

"Tea?"

"You said coffee made you nauseous yesterday." He replied. "Have you taken your potion already?" Draco felt her nod. "What did Potter say?"

She let go of him, and leaned against the counter, folding her arms over her chest. "He just apologized and told me how he knew it was wrong. I thought I wouldn't be hurt by the time I talked to him, but I'm still upset. Do you think I'm overreacting?"

He paused.

"It's not a trick question."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "That's what you would say if it _was_ a trick question." But she didn't laugh, and he dropped his attempt at comedic relief. "I don't think you're overreacting. It was an arsehole move to get married and not tell anyone. Then to keep it from his closest friends? I think he's not thought things through before, but maybe take the space you need to be upset, and then work through it, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. "Would you like to know who it is?"

He nearly dropped his cup when his head whipped toward her. "You know?"

"You're such a gossip!" Granger snorted. "One hint of gossip and you're ready to must fit in rather nicely with all the society witches you know."

"I think you know very well that I do not fit in with those witches, and I take offense to that. I'm no gossip, just well-informed."

She cocked her head to the side. " _Right_ , because someone well-informed would care. Well, we went to Hogwarts with her, and she's also Harry's ex-girlfriend."

Draco shook his head. "No, he told me that he wouldn't marry her, and they would never be getting back together." Plus, the last he'd heard, the youngest Weasley had decided to marry Neville Longbottom too.

"He didn't marry Ginny. He married Cho Chang."

He remembered her being in Ravenclaw, and even vaguely remembered seeing her with Potter in Hogsmeade.

"She'll be joining us this Friday at the Leaky Cauldron, too." Granger flipped the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet over and pushed it toward Draco as he neared the table. "Looks like Rita Skeeter had already found out though since this arrived this morning."

Turning past the title page, Draco found the full article on page two and found it to be just as messy as he expected.

It wasn't what held his attention though. A bit to the right, there was a much smaller article that contained the name of _his_ ex, and above it was a picture of her on the arm of Marcus Flint. "Astoria got married yesterday. It's on page two. I'm sure she's furious to be outshined by Potter."

Granger pulled the paper toward her, and read over it herself. "This is surprising. Marcus Flint is…"

He was a wanker, but she wasn't likely to say that. "I'm glad it's built into the law that matches are unable to harm one another. I certainly wouldn't trust him."

Her brows drew together. "Do you think he'd try anyway? Is it possible for you to check on her?"

Draco choked. "Granger, I cannot just drop in on her."

"Then maybe another Auror could do so? Or a mutual friend you two share? What about Theo since he's marrying her sister?" Words coming out in a rush, Granger appeared to be genuinely worried. "I don't hold anything against her, Draco and from what I remember in school, Marcus Flint wasn't kind. He was a bully, and he knocked _me_ into a wall more than once."

"I didn't know that." Draco muttered, his voice harsh. "I'll talk to Theo when I see him. Daphne's quite protective, and I have doubts Theo would stay home while she went. Don't worry about this, alright?"

She closed the paper, and nodded.


	17. Chapter 17

In another life that hadn't been derailed by the marriage law, Draco doubted Granger and Pansy would have grown close. Yet, that was a scene that greeted him frequently as he landed in their fireplace, or if he visited the orphanage. From Weasley, he knew that when they were caught late at the Ministry, their wives were making the most of it while getting drinks in Diagon Alley.

Granger deserved to be happy, and it seemed that Pansy could plaster a smile on her face that was sure not to come off within a few hours.

Sometimes—well, frequently really—he wondered what it was they discussed while together. Did Granger mention him? As easy as it had been to slip into a routine with her that led to snogging more often than not, she was not extremely forthcoming with him. Surely she could be just as nervous as he, but _she_ was supposed to be the brave one.

Time at work had morphed into _before_ and _after_ the deadline of the law. Now he knew that each day would bring more arrests for those that refused to complied—and he toed a thin line when he admitted to one witch that he understood—while complaints began to pour in. It wasn't enough that the Ministry had created a clause in the vows taken, so a spouse could not hurt another.

There wasn't a clause they could create that would eliminate all abuse.

"They act like the only thing to be concerned about is a husband beating his wife," Ron snarled. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he held the same posture as Draco's regular partner—who had come down with an illness circling the building. "Or a wife attacking her husband."

Draco nodded. Cases were never so cut and dry, and with a set of complicated circumstances such as their present, the law had only grown murkier. Even then, the pair of them had just left another residence where a wizard had convinced his new wife to cut ties with her family, and it had been the father to contact the DMLE with the concern.

" _They say he can't hurt her, but…"_

Not for the first time—not even for the first time that morning—Draco wanted to strangle whoever had believed it was a good idea to only jot down _physical abuse_. Later when he returned to the DMLE, Charlus Smith would be sitting outside Draco's office, the same spot he'd taken hours earlier, and Draco would explain that his daughter was safe, which was a technicality.

That witch certainly wasn't fine, and her husband had done a wicked job in isolating her from anyone that might call out his lack of good behavior.

He'd already decided to stop by again as a welfare check before the week closed.

"The next flat is up here," Weasley motioned over their heads. "Maria didn't write down a name, just the address and," he squinted. "Family concerned. They haven't heard from her in five days."

Peeking over, Draw saw that _five_ had been underlined twice. He climbed the stairs with Weasley a beat behind him, and kept his hands free of his pockets in case he needed to draw his wand. This building was one Aurors were often called to. Personally, he'd had a vase hurled at his head on the terrace up top, and Draco wasn't keen to repeat the experience.

There was a pink notice on the door, indicating that the tenant inside had been late on paying rent, and Draw saw that it hadn't been the first time either. Still though, there was no name, and he wondered who was running this place.

"You gonna knock, or…?" Weasley shifted.

Rapping his knuckles on the door twice, loud enough to be heard inside this flat and probably both flats on either side of it, Draco stepped backward. Footsteps sounded on the other side, light, and he could see a partial shadow under the crack at the bottom of the door. His lips parted, and he drew a breath to announce themselves as Aurors, but the door swung open.

His stomach dropped.

"I assumed it would be Aurors," Astoria muttered, and there was a grim line to her lips. "But I didn't think they would send _you_."

A low, strangled sound forced its way free of his throat, and Draco looked her over once, then twice. She was smaller than the last time he'd seen her, and really, the woman before him looked nothing like the witch he had previously been engaged to. With dark circles beneath her eyes, and a loose muggle shirt that must belong to her husband about to fall off her shoulder.

He checked for bruises, but he knew there wouldn't be any.

"Your family registered a complaint because they haven't heard from you." Draco said. He had no idea how _he_ hadn't already heard about it from Theo or Daphne directly, but he was certain that this memo in particular had been placed on his desk by no coincidence. "Astoria, what the fuck are you doing here?"

She angled herself away from him, and he expected a biting retort.

Astoria gave none.

"I live here, you fool. I'd hardly be here for the _lovely_ ammenities." Acid dropped from her tone. "As for why I haven't spoken to my family, they're not pleased by my choice in wizards."

"Is Marcus here?" Draco asked.

She shook her head. "I doubt he'll be back today. He left earlier for a practice, and he'll be traveling for a match tonight."

From the Daily Prophet, he knew that Marcus Flint played for the Montrose Magpies, but he knew that Flint seemed to live in the wings as a reserve that never saw actual game time.

"Why aren't you traveling with him?" Draco said, and he was glad that at leas tup until then, Weasley had stayed quiet.

"Spare me the concern," she bit out, flexing her fingers on the door trim. "In fact, now that you've seen me in one piece, you can leave." Astoria moved to slam the door in his face, but Draco's foot shot out, wedged between the door and the trim.

"Astoria," Draco breathed. "Contrary to whatever you might believe, I know you very well."

Her features were pinched. "Then you'll know that I don't want to talk to you." She pressed the door forward again, putting all her weight on his foot.

His expression didn't change.

"You have to leave," Astoria said, and her anger had chipped. "I'm perfectly well, and I don't want to explain to Marcus why Aurors were here, especially _you_."

He couldn't overstay his welcome when Astoria would file a complaint that would just look _odd_ , and he'd done his job to see that she was fine.

Just like the other witch though, she was not fine.

"If you need anything," Draco growled, "call the DMLE. You hate me, that's fine but it's fucking clear that you're not _well_ , Tori." He pulled his foot back. "For the love of Merlin, call your sister too. She's probably losing her mind."

The door slammed shut without another word from her.

"So," Weasley exhaled. "That went well."

"Fuck off."

"Right, right, I'll get on that, Malfoy."

* * *

The door to his office cracked open near the end of the day, and he was caught with his face in his hands by his wife. Granger froze just inside the doorway, still partially standing in the corridor. "Is this a bad time?"

God, he couldn't think of a better time.

She closed the door quietly behind her, and settled in the chair across from him. Always enticing without trying, Granger slipped her pumps off before crossing one leg over the other. "You look terrible."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

She always had that effect on him.

"You know just what to say to a bloke, don't you?"

It earned a laugh, and she cocked her head to the side, curls falling over her shoulder while she shifted in the seat. "I thought if I caught you before the end of your day, you might like to come to dinner."

He lifted a brow. The medium sized stack of parchment on his desk was still just as important as it had been before she arrived, but he found himself not nearly as motivated to work through it before the end of the day. "What's the occasion?"

"I'd like it if you would tell me what's wrong first," Granger tucked her fist under her jaw, eyes searching his face, and if there had been any possibility of pretending there was nothing, it was gone in that moment. "I bumped into Ron on my way here."

The sound that came from Draco was a non-commital one, a hum really.

She glanced at her fingernails before looking at him again. "He was out of sorts too. A curious thing since the two of you patrolled together this morning while Harry is sick."

"We had to pay visits to recently married couples who've shown strain." Granger didn't ask what that meant; she probably didn't need to, but he explained it anyway. "The DMLE has received several complaints from concerned families so far. Weasley and I were assigned to that today."

Brows furrowed, Granger's lips parted.

"It seems there was a mix up with our intern, Maria. We were sent to see someone I'd rather not have seen, but I'm certain it was put on my desk by request of a friend." He pinched the bridge of his nose, still not able to get the sight of Astoria—pale and so miserable looking—out of his head. "We saw Astoria."

The reaction in her was immediate. Granger straightened and folded her hands in her lap. "Is she—"

Slowly, Draco shook his head. "The match prevents either of them from physically wounding the other, but I suspect that she isn't fairing well beneath this law. No one is," he rushed to add. "I would have spoken with her more, but she was eager to kick me out, and slammed the door in my face."

While smoothing her skirt, Granger stood and came around his desk. She leaned against the edge, and and bent down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I see. Do you think it was Theo, or possibly Daphne who reported it?"

"Without a doubt, but I haven't figured out why neither of them would have come to me directly." Draco watched her sit in the center of his desk, legs carefully crossed so he couldn't chance a peek under her dress—which he was severely tempted to do.

He choked when she ran her foot along the inside of his calf, and then his thigh.

There was a cruel curve to her mouth, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the desk.

"What are we going for dinner for?" Draco asked, all while running his hand up her calf, light catching on the few rings that adorned his left hand. He was pleased with the way she shivered, and slid his palm even father then, letting his fingertips press into the soft skin of her thighs. "I've thought about this, you know."

By the slight narrowing of her eyes, she knew exactly what he was referring to, but Draco watched her lips frame the words anyway. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Don't you?" Draco slid closer to her, still seated in his chair, and allowed his fingers to wander. Her dress bunched at her hips, and they would need to be careful so as not to leave lines, or others would know exactly what they had gotten up to behind the closed door of his—technically _shared_ —office. "Most of my fantasies start out like this, with you sitting on my desk while looking so utterly sinful."

It was the slow curve of her mouth that always got him—when she smirked, when she smiled—because in moments like this, knowing how she wrapped her lips around his cock was all he could think of.

"I've envisioned you spread across my desk," Draco squeezed the inside of her thighs, just slightly so his eyes could track the way her chest rose and fell. Pulling her into his lap, Draco's hands rested on her arse, kneading the soft flesh there as his nose skimmed her collarbone while he placed open-mouthed kisses to her shoulder. "What's the occasion, Granger?"

Her lips were still parted as she wiggled her hips, and Granger leaned backward to undo the buckle of her heels that circled her ankles. "As you know, I still want to make a difference. Some of that is easier now that I don't have the Ministry as my employer."

Draco traced a slow path over her calf.

Granger continued with a bit of difficulty, her lips framing the words as her breathing grew heavier. "I had wanted to work in the Department of Care of Magical Creatures."

"Yes, I remember." It had been the reason for his surprise when he'd learned she had accepted a position as an Unspeakable after graduation. "You haven't applied for that, have you?"

She snorted. "Absolutely not. I would never work for this Ministry again. However, the fact that I don't may have landed me in a position that's given me an edge."

He lifted a brow.

Leaning closer, Hermione asked, "Draco, what is my last name?"

"Gran—"

She shook her head, a pleased smile tugging at the edge of her lips. "I believe my last name is Malfoy now. Surely you haven't forgotten. You were there, afterall."

He wondered if he would ever grow used to how it felt to be teased by her again. He wasn't sure he'd grown used to it the first time either. "Are you telling me becoming a Malfoy has given you an _edge_ , darling?"

"Mmm," she pressed her lips together. "Slightly. More than that, Lucius has agreed to help me. Do you realize how many people are frightened to tell your father no?"

Draco laughed, and he watched the corner of her eyes crinkle the tiniest bit as she smiled. "I do. What has he done?"

"Not long ago, he caught me drafting something with the Wizengamot in mind. I had no intention of sending it; there has to be a level of support before you can present as an outside source, which I didn't have." Lacing her fingers together at the nape of his neck, Granger told him, "He wouldn't listen when I told him he didn't need to help me. Rather, he insisted that it was his _duty_ to help me. There was a monologue involved, old-fashioned and sweet, really."

Outside his office, he could hear the office going through the motions that came with the end of the day. "You're stalling for a grand reveal, and now you have me curious."

"Wolfsbane," she said quietly and waited for his reaction. "More accurately, making it affordable."

In Hogwarts, she had told him about Professor Lupin, who she knew by first name, and how closely she'd adored him as their professor, _This_ subject was very dear to her, designed with her former role model in mind.

Reaching up, he tucked a curl behind her ear. "He would be proud of you."

"We've gained the backing we needed," Granger said, a bit sniffly as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "We'll present it to the Wizengamot in two months."

Draco wiped away a tear that fell with the pad of his thumb and leaned his forehead to hers. "You brilliant, brilliant witch."

* * *

He took her to dinner, and had planned to sweep her off her feet the moment they arrived home, but it hadn't gone that way. Not even close, in fact. First, Granger had invited his parents. A perfectly acceptable move, given the fact that his father _had_ helped make this a reality—even though Lucius remained steadfast that it had all been Hermione. Or, should Draco say, it would have been an acceptable move had Granger not insisted they stay a bit later.

Honestly, Draco wasn't even sure how they had ended up in the Leaky Cauldron. While it was a pub he frequented, it was a far cry from the upscale restaurant they had just left.

As he sat back with one arm slung over the back of the booth, Draco swallowed the fact of how unlikely it was he would be taking his wife to bed.

"I don't think I've ever seen Lucius drink quite so much." His mother sat beside him, fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. She wore a wide smile, and she'd since pulled the pin from her hair to allow it to tumble around her shoulders. In all of the years he'd seen his parents in public settings, specifically his _mother_ , he'd never seen her hair down. "Are Hermione's curls natural?"

He nearly groaned.

"Miss Granger," his father's voice cut through the tension that had settled over them, his tone mockingly polite. "I assure you I have no problem holding my alcohol."

Hermione waved a hand, her cheeks pink and flushed, and her lower lip was swollen fro where she'd dug her teeth in earlier in his office while they— "Yes, yes." She muttered. "As such a _dignified_ man, you could never be bested by a lady, is that it?"

Snorting while swallowing firewhisky was a painful thing, Draco would have liked to point out. The impersonation of his father's nasally drawl was spot on. Even his mother laughed.

"Perhaps you might stop your prancing and bloody get on with it," Narcissa finished her wine.

No one but him found it odd that his mum had said _bloody_ , or the fact that his _wife_ and _father_ were now in a drinking contest. A contest that Hermione had demanded.

"Darling, why don't we keep this in our wine cellar? It's delicious,"

Lucius reached across the table to pick up the bottle by the neck. "Sweet—Cissy, this is _elf-wine_."

She nodded happily, snatching it back to pour another glass, _all the way to the brim_. "Brilliant, isn't it? Don't look so put out, Lucius. As I recall, you're usually delighted when I've been drinking because I pull your hair."

Hermione snorted.

Draco wanted to be struck down where he sat in the booth. To Granger, he mouthed, " _This is your fault."_

" _Do you like when I pull your hair?"_ she replied silently.

Yes, he did but he'd prefer not to think of it as his parents discussed their own preferences in front of him.

By the time the challenge came back around, Lucius had been whispering in his mother's ear, and Draco wanted to escape.

Shot glasses lined the table, and Draco could confidently say he'd never seen his father drink from one. Always firewhisky in a glass, with ice. Apparently, everything he'd previously expected from his parents had gone out the window though. His mother swayed in her seat, already tipping another glass of wine to her lips, a wine that she apparently did not handle well.

His father continued to goad Granger while they both drank, and Draco wasn't even sure what they had promised to the winner at this point, or if they had even gotten to that point before drinking.

He wasn't truly annoyed. It was true that his plans had possibly been dashed, and replaced with holding his wife's hair while she retched in the loo when they _did_ get home, but he didn't mind that either. All he could think of, was how this would have never happened had he married Astoria. There would have been formal dinners, and Sunday brunches. It wasn't that either of these were particularly terrible; they had been what he expected after leaving _this_ witch before graduation.

Now, Granger sat across from him with her cheeks flushed, and blood pooling in her lower lip while she made his father laugh into his drink. She grinned, and giggled while telling his mother her hair was so pretty when it was let down, and Draco watched all of this from the outside.

Often he felt guilty for being so happy in the position they had found themselves in. Granger felt it too, he knew.

It was inexplicably hard in the moment to drum up any sense of guilt.

As the odds turned in his wife's favor, and a glass slipped from his father's hand, the liquid spilling across his robes, Granger grinned at Draco. "Have I won?" Her voice was slurred, at best. "It seems you can't _handle_ your alcohol, Lucius."

"I'll concede to that," Lucius said. "Draco, you might carry your witch to the Floo."

"I can walk." Even she didn't sound like she believed it. "Probably." From across the booth, Hermione slid her foot up his calf, having kicked her heels off, until it reached his upper thigh. "I think I'd like to go home now."

His mother and father had already risen as well, but Lucius reached into his robes before pressing four galleons into Hermione's waiting hand. "As promised."

"Better luck next time," she chirped.

* * *

They stumbled together. Fingernails bit into his shoulder, and she hooked an ankle around his leg, which caused them to fall onto the sofa, very nearly landing on the floor instead had he not shifted their weight.

Her lips traced the pulse in his throat, tongue running across it while she hastily dealt with the buttons of his shirt. Pushing it backward, she ran her hands over his chest, soft flesh meeting hard lines of his abdomen, and Granger knelt between his legs. "Do you want to hear a secret?" she whispered.

Hermione's hands stilled over the button of his trousers.

"I think you may want to keep your secrets for now, sweetheart. You're notoriously loose-lipped while you're pissed." He threaded his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face, and watched her lean into him. "Tell me in the morning."

She shook her head. "I've wanted to tell you for a few weeks, and I think it would be cruel if I kept it from you for any longer. You've already—" she swallowed. "You've been so patient with me."

It felt like something momentous, like something she ought to say while she was sober, but hadn't had the courage to say until she was drunk.

_Gryffindors._

"I mean it now, and I'll still believe it in the morning."

He drew a breath, and pulled her upward, pulling her into his lap where her thighs bracketed his hips. Draco swiped his thumb across her lower lip, back and forth, and whispered, "Tell me then, pretty witch."

Her cheeks were already flushed, but they filled with even more color then. "I want this life with you. I never want to lose it."

Draco could hear the echo of his heartbeat between his ears.

"I hope they overturn the law, I do," Granger continued. "But I want this still, with you."

He crushed her curls between his fingers, and sat up to kiss her. Draco felt a heavy breath push against his lips as she cupped his face in her hands.

"It's hard, you know, trying not to fall in love with you," Granger managed, each word interupted with a a slide of their lips. Barely that kisses that made his hands shake where they held her. "So, I've decided to stop trying. It's inevitable, falling in love with you."

He caught her lower lip between his teeth, and watched her eyes widen. When he pulled away, he found her trembling in his lap. "Let me say it," he murmured, nose pressed to her throat as he gently kissed the flesh there.

Granger tugged her shirt over her head, nodding fervently, and he unclasped her bra before flattening his palms on her back. "Only this time," she murmured, her hips rocking against his. "Next time, I want to say it first."

He almost laughed. "You're suggesting we take turns?"

"Are you truly going to argue with me while I'm _topless_?"

"Isn't arguing the thing we do best?" His hands shifted down her sides, fingers brushing the swell of her breasts.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Oh, I think there are a few more things we do well." Granger's pelvis ground against his. "You were going to tell me something."

Arguably, this was not the way he'd planned this, and of course there had been a plan.

Draco held her face in his hands, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. "Fuck, I love you." He would have told her what a fool he'd been, _again_ , that he'd made so many mistakes, _again,_ but she slanted her lips over his and kissed him every time he tried.

* * *

"Draco— _Draco!_ " Through a sleep induced fog, with the side of all the alcohol he'd gulped down, Draco had the absent thought that this wasn't the way she usually called out his name. Apparently, he'd voiced that outloud too, since she snorted. "You're a prat. Wake up, there's a summons from the Ministry."

He cracked one eye open, and found Granger's face hovering over his, her hair mussed and tangled. "What time is it?" Craning his head back, and bumping it against the armrest of the sofa, he saw that it was still dark, and the moon was still high. "Have you read it?"

She shook her head. "I'm not meant to."

"I'll end up telling you anyway," Draco sat up, and carefully swung his legs over the side of the sofa.

Granger rolled her eyes, pressed the summons into his hand, and sat in front of him, her legs tucked under her. She'd pulled on his shirt, only buttoning it halfway.

The image it gave—how it revealed her breasts and her nipples through the thin fabric—was mouthwatering.

"If you keep staring at me like that, you'll never make it out of the flat, Draco."

He tore the seal from the scroll and pulled it open, eyes narrowing.

"Is it terrible?"

It was.

It was the sort of mission she shouldn't know about, but he'd tell her anyway. She'd been right not to open it. The summons had been sent by Robards, and he imagined his partner was receiving it now, and likely Weasley too. "It's good that you didn't open it, or it would have hexed you."

For a moment, Granger didn't say anything at all, and by the time she opened her mouth, he'd already started again.

"There's a hit-wizard who operates out of Russia who has been spotted in Devon. He's number three on the Ministry's watch list." Draco explained all of this very calmly as he summoned his uniform from their bedroom, and ran his fingers through his hair. "It seems that Potter and I will be sent, as will Weasley if the standard of a three man team holds."

" _Three?"_ Her voice had shot up in pitch, and she wrung her hands in her lap. "That doesn't—that hardly seems like enough."

"There will be teams of Aurors in the vicinity, should we need them," Draco tried to reassure her, but it failed. "The less bodies, the better, Granger." He winced. _Bodies_ hadn't been the right word to use. "Strictly speaking, I'm not meant to tell you this, but this isn't the first mission of this kind I've been sent on."

She didn't say anything.

"I'll be safe, and I'll be home in no time at all."

"I don't doubt your abilities, but—" Granger sighed. "If this is a hit-wizard, I think of how you'll defend yourself if he's aiming to kill and you three are aiming to arrest—"

He was not supposed to tell her.

Yet, he worried if he didn't, it would feel like lying, and if he _did_ , that she would look at him differently.

"When the British Ministry sends a team to neutralize a threat—for an individual such as him—Aurors are given clearance to eliminate the threat through whatever measures we're forced to take." To his relief, she wasn't horrified.

Instead, she nodded. "I know you're not meant to tell me, but thank you for doing so anyway."

He kissed the top of her head, and stood to dress. "I don't know when I'll return," Draco said. "The Ministry won't be able to give you any information, since you're not meant to know. Weasley may tell Pansy; she may bring it up to you."

"I'll call her in the morning. We spent most of our time during your last mission together to fill the space. I may need her more than she needs _me_ this time." Granger forced a laugh. "Be careful, and come back in one piece." She sighed then. "I'm not going to wait around like a doting house-witch, who's husband has gone off to fight an evil wizard."

He smirked. "Of course you aren't. That certainly doesn't sound like Hermione Granger."

She was rattled, he knew. Another side effect of her potions was frequent mood swings as her body adjusted to them, and her lower lip wobbled. "I'm not that upset. It's these ridiculous—"

Pulling her into him, he chuckled. "I'll do my best to be back before your appointment this week."

With her head still tucked under his chin, she nodded without a word, and let him rub circles across her back.


	18. Chapter 18

The number of lives that Dimitri Ivanov was not in the report that Robards pressed into his partner's hand. As he clenched his jaw, Draco decided that wasn't an accurate thing to say since it _had_ been in the document at one point, but it had been blacked out before he'd seen it. It didn't matter, he knew. He didn't need to know exactly what this man had done in his time.

He didn't need to know, in an effort to make himself feel the slightest bit better about the fact he probably wouldn't live past a few more days. Neither did Potter or Weasley. He wondered what it said about them, about _him_ , and it was far from the first time he had considered that.

His wand dug into the softness of his wrist, and Draco rocked back on his heels. Brisk air blew past them from where they stood on the ridge—the last place Ivanov had been seen after arriving in Devon. "Figures that he'd head underground," Potter commented.

Draco nodded. "He won't stay long."

The wind came again, causing a chill to slide down his spine.

* * *

The downside to working while remaining hidden was that comfy inns weren't an option. Draco would rather not spend the night listening to Ron complain that a twig stuck him in the arse, and left a cut but here he was doing exactly that. Rolling onto his side, Draco hissed, "Dab some cream on it, and shut up."

"You're _both_ annoying." Potter groaned, and shuffled in his sleeping bag. "Ron, we did this for a bloody year, so I think you can manage for a few days."

"Did he complain just as much then? Running from the Dark Lord while fighting off the vegetation, Weasley?"

"Who the _fuck_ says _vegetation_ instead of _grass_?"

Draco rolled his eyes, not that either of them could see it. "We aren't talking about grass."

"That's—" Without looking, he knew that Ron's upper lip had curled up into a snarl. "Harry, tell him—"

"Yes, he complained just as much." Harry spoke, voice weary. "If not more."

"You bloody _traitor_." Before he'd finished, there was a thud. "Did you just hit me with a water bottle?"

Draco turned again, this time to face them while pulling the side of the sleeping bag up. "We might not be able to find Ivanov, but luckily he'll find us since the pair of you are obnoxiously Gryffindor."The insult seemed to land, and for a blissful handful of minutes, there was silence.

Naturally, one of them ruined it.

Ron cleared his throat. "Are either of you actually tired?"

Of course not. It was hard to sleep when every snap, or crackle in the forest surrounding them could be Ivanov. Besides, no one ever slept on these missions, even when one of them would stay awake to keep watch. To keep in line with his tone of dry sarcasm from moments earlier, Draco would have pointed this out, but the catch in Weasley's voice stopped him.

"I'm not. Potter?"

"Can't sleep."

Content where he was, Draco continued to lay on the forest floor, and stared up through the canopy made up of leaves before his gaze landed on the moon above. "Spit it out, Weasley."

"Pansy's upset. No, she's not _upset_. She's—" he swallowed, and Draco could hear it. "'Mione—she's upset that she's not pregnant, isn't she?"

Draco froze, not that he'd been moving very much to begin with, but he didn't draw a breath either. "Yes, it's a difficult spot for her right now. I imagine it's partially why she's working so hard."

"The potions she's taking. Does she believe they're working?"

The only sound from Potter was his breathing.

Draco wished he had a better answer. "We're not sure yet. Her next appointment is next month."

"My mum put her foot in her mouth, but she doesn't realize she's done it." Ron told them, her voice low. "She's keen on becoming a grandmother again, and apparently she's asked Pansy if she's pregnant even when I'm not there."

He liked Molly.

He did, honestly. Despite the fact that there had been decades—longer than that, really—of bad blood between their families, she'd been kind to him. However, anger rushed through him then. "Pansy took it badly, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Ron breathed. "She told me she feels like a failure. I think you know better than anyone how she keeps her feelings close, but this…"

Pansy had kept her emotions locked up since they were children, but he knew what it was like to be in the room when the box was opened, and everything poured out.

"She told me she must be the problem. _You've seen the Weasley genetics firsthand, haven't you?_ "

Draco would have liked to say something more reassuring, but he had nothing. "There's only so much we can do, given the fact that we don't fully understand the pain it causes them." He thought of Granger, of the way he'd found her with a muggle pregnancy test in their bathroom with tears staining her cheeks. "But she has Granger. I'll put you in touch with our healer once we're home."

"Thanks, mate."

It was a nice moment, but he didn't particularly care for _nice_. "Don't complain about your arse again."

"Then don't give me the sleeping bag with a _hole_ in it, you tremendous fucking wanker."

"Mmm," Draco snorted. "Tremendous is a big word for you, isn't it?"

"Not as big as my—"

Draco cast a wandless silencing charm—that would wear off the second he fell asleep—and settled down to get as much sleep as he could.

* * *

The mission ended after four days—one day longer than he'd told Granger.

It ended unexpectedly even as the result had been the same one running through all of their minds. As Friday came to a close, two hours from bleeding into Saturday, Ivanov had entered a wizarding pub with his wand drawn where two aurors sat—aurors that had not been with them.

Dimitri's paranoia had doubled with them following behind each of his movements so closely, so it should have made sense how it had come to a head.

Despite being seconds behind him, those two aurors had been killed in a breath.

Landing in the pub, and confronted with the scene before them, Draco cast the killing curse as patrons scattered. The sound of a hard _thud_ was still present in his ears as they prepared for their portkey.

"Alright?" Potter's voice remained low. "Malfoy, you couldn't have done anything to save them."

He shoved a jumper that smelled like Granger into his rucksack roughly. "I'm fine. It's not as though we knew it wasn't the most likely outcome."

While Weasley kept his back turned, still packing, his partner didn't let up. "Yeah, we assumed we might have to kill the man, but—"

"Stop."

" _No_ , you need to listen. We've been partners long enough for me to realize when you're shouldering the blame, but there's not a thing you could have done to save those Aurors."

It wasn't true. Had their scouts been more accurate, it wouldn't have happened. Draco didn't say anything. He pressed his lips together and yanked the zipper of his bag shut. "Thanks for the pep talk, Potter. Really helpful, honestly. Perhaps Robards won't order me to visit the DMLE shrink since you've done his job already."

"You're implying there is a job for him to do."

"Piss off,"

Weasley hung to the other side of the room, portkey in hand.

Blowing out a hard breath, Harry said, "I'm just saying that you usually lash out when an assignment ends badly. It doesn't matter to me if you treat me like shite, but—"

A sharp whistle came from the other side of the room, the sound of a warning.

"I'd tread very carefully if I were you," Draco hissed. "Surely you're not implying that I'm going to be an arse to—"

"As fun as this is, I have a wife I'd like to get home to." Weasley intervened. "Malfoy, be nice to Hermione or we'll put your arse between your shoulder blades. Harry, remove your cock from your attitude, and let's go."

It should have made him laugh, but it didn't.

* * *

Robards greeted them at the Ministry with a nod. "Aurors Weasley and Malfoy, your wives are in a conference room down the corridor. Before you report to your debriefing, I suggest you see them." The break in protocol came as a surprise from the head auror. "It seems there was a mistake in what information was released to the Daily Prophet this afternoon."

Draco's bag slid off his shoulder and hit the ground. "What kind of mistake?"

"Well, the semantics aren't very important—"

"Sir—" Weasley choked. "Is that a handprint on your cheek?"

Robards swallowed, cheeks coloring slightly. "Yes, it is. The Daily Prophet released their article of the success of the mission early while also reporting that two Aurors were killed."

His stomach dropped, and the ground swayed.

"Auror Malfoy, I knew that Hermione Granger was not the witch to argue with, but she's—she has a ruthless right hook." Robards blinked. "I couldn't tell either of them that you were safe. The families of the slain Aurors haven't been identified."

Draco nodded. "Of course. I understand." Weasley was already halfway out the door by the time Draco caught up to him. He threw open each door as they rushed down the corridor, finding two rooms empty and one room being used for a seminar. "Apologies," Draco bit out, and slammed the door shut.

When he pulled the next door open, he saw Granger standing with her arms folded over her chest, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. Sitting in the chair at the end of the table, her fingers curled into a tight fist, Pansy sat straight up as Weasley shoved past him.

"You're alive," Granger whispered. Her steps to him were slow, and he worried that if he moved any farther, he might scare her. "Is Harry…?"

"He's fine. It wasn't us, Hermione."

She nodded. "Robards put us in this room, and I wished that it would be anyone but you. Does that make me terrible?"

Unable to wait another moment, Draco pulled her into the curve of him while smoothing down her hair. "No," he murmured, curling his fingers into her hair. "Ivanov noticed he was being followed, and he found two Aurors in a pub. We were there seconds after, but it was too late."

Granger stretched up, and wound her arms around his neck. "You didn't arrest him, did you?"

"No, we didn't." Over the top of her head, he could see Weasley on knelt in front of Pansy, his arms around her waist as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I killed him."

She gripped him even tighter.

* * *

Weasley bit into his bagel and crossed one leg over the other. "So, you have to meet with the psychiatrist before Robards will release back into the field?" There was no reason for him to be there, other than to possibly annoy Draco. "Did you know that you've had to visit him more than I ever have?"

"You haven't killed as many people as I have." Draco ground out. "You also have an Order of Merlin, First Class and I have the Dark Mark."

It should have killed his optimism, but Draco's luck wasn't that kind to him. "Don't say it like _that_. For fuck's sake, you've only have three visits because of, well, this. Plus the others where you—"

"Why are you here?"

Weasley's cheeks reddened. "I have to tell you something you're not going to like. In fact, you're going to overreact, so I reckoned if I got a good enough rise out of you, it wouldn't seem so bad."

Draco tapped his fingers against his knee.

"Krum was in England while we were gone." He said it all in one breath, and waited for Draco's reaction. "You've got that look on your face. Look, you and I both know it's nothing. Hermione hasn't thought of him once since coming home with you, and from what Pansy said, it sounds like he just wanted to meet for tea."

He had a difficult time believing that Viktor Krum would settle for _only_ tea with his wife. "Granger hasn't mentioned it."

"Well, she did think you were dead last night, and you can't blame her if it slipped her mind. You're both rubbish at communicating, and I felt I should have let her tell you in her own time." Ron groaned to himself. "Then I thought that I would want to know if I were you."

He nodded. "Thank you for telling me. I'll ask her about it later."

"Don't overreact, yeah? It's nothing."

* * *

Draco was home before her. Twenty minutes after he put the kettle on, Granger entered their kitchen and shrugged out of her jacket. He meant to broach the subject tactfully, but Potter had been irritatingly right. He _did_ lash out at the ones he cared about.

"Krum was here."

Her head snapped up, curls moving with it and she stared at him. "Pardon?"

"Krum—Viktor, whatever it is you call him. He was here while I was in Devon, wasn't he?"

Granger gripped the back of the chair, and her eyes narrowed. "By here, do you mean—"

"I mean _here_ ," he snapped.

Hurt flashed across her face, and anger didn't follow. Granger's knuckles turned white as she clenched the back of the chair. "No, Draco. He wasn't here, but Krum was in the country while you were away. I know Pansy didn't tell you, so I'll assume it was Ron."

The kettle whistled behind him. "He did, but I wish I hadn't had to hear about it from him rather than _you._ "

She hummed. "Did you wait for Ron to tell you how I told Viktor in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interested in seeing him in any capacity out of respect for my husband? Or did he neglect to mention that part of it?" Granger breezed past him, and pulled a drawer open before pressing a piece of parchment into his hand. "Read it. That's the letter he sent me the second night you were gone, and the letter I replied with. He sent it back without a response."

"Clearly he wanted something more than a bit of conversation then." Draco growled under his breath. He reached for her.

She pulled just out of his touch, and he didn't blame her. "I can't believe you don't trust me. I've never given you a reason not to."

"Nice jab, Granger."

The corners of her lips dipped. "That wasn't what I meant." Granger shook her head. "I'm going to bed. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you immediately. I hadn't given it any more thought, but you…" She trailed off, and left him in the middle of the kitchen.

It was a step up from the time he caused her to storm out of the flat, but not by much.

"Fuck me," he mumbled.

* * *

He slept on the sofa, choosing not to join her in the bedroom. As Draco saw it, the chances were slim that she wanted to see him, and it would be better to give her space. At the time, it'd felt like the best option.

In the morning however, Draco had changed his mind. It played through his mind again that he'd accused her of lying to him, of meeting her ex-boyfriend when Granger would never do that. And if she had, he thought, nothing would have come of it anyway.

Draco groaned as he shifted on the sofa, throwing an arm across his face as sunlight cut through the room. Warmth spread over him, down his forearm to the tip of his fingers. Crooks had curled up on his chest at some point, a soft mass of fur, and he could already see tufts of orange fur that clung to his shirt. "I'm leaving you at a groomer's."

Crooks sank sharp nails into Draco's chest, and cracked one eye open.

The flat was empty. There was no sound of the Granger's coffee machine, or the kettle, or the turning of pages from the kitchen table. Propping himself up, Draco's eyes swept over the room and he saw her bag was gone from the hook near the Floo, and from where he rested, he could see an empty vial poking out from the top of the rubbish bin at the edge of the kitchen. It dawned on him slowly, and then all at once.

Cursing under his breath, Draco left Crooks to sleep on the sofa as he rushed toward the bedroom, while still undressing. Granger's appointment at St. Mungos was today, and he'd forgotten. If he was lucky, he might arrive before the healer did, but a rushed _tempus_ told him that luck wasn't on his side today.

* * *

Granger straightened as he entered the room, eyes widening slightly as he allowed the door to click shut behind him. "You have every rightt o be furious," Draco began, winded from the run there, his cheeks flushed. "I know that, and I respect that. I've missed one appointment before though, and I have no intention of missing another, no matter how angry you are."

"Draco—"

"If you want, I'll sit in that chair—in the corner even, if you like—and I won't say a single word, but please—"

She patted the space beside him on the bed. "I'd like for you to sit beside me, please."

His mouth snapped shut. "What?"

"I asked you to sit down." Granger nodded toward the empty space. "It's true that I'm frustrated, but we'll talk about it once we get home, and we'll work it out. We always do."

He leaned against the bed, and watched her hand raise to cup his cheek. "I don't deserve you."

Granger gave a small smile. "Don't be ridiculous. You've always had a jealous streak. Really, it came as no surprise to me, Draco." Her hand found his, and she threaded their fingers together. "I would have told you, but it slipped my mind since I thought you had been killed. I really think you can't fully blame me, but from now on, I'll let you know anytime an ex-boyfriend pops up."

"You don't need to do that." Draco wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "I trust you, and I overreacted."

"Yes, you did." Hermione nodded.

"I'm sorry, Granger. The things I implied—"

She cleared her throat, and shook her head. "Next time, can we just agree to talk things through _before_ jumping to conclusions? Arguing is exhausting, and I hate sleeping without you."

"Yeah," Draco's lips brushed hers. He would swear that it was Granger to lean into him while curling her fingers in his robes. He'd only barely begun to kiss her properly when the door swung open.

"Pardon me," a healer interrupted them, amusement heavy in their voice. "Shall I give you a few moments?"

Granger had gone red to the roots of her hair.

* * *

It was funny how seemingly unrelated incidents could suddenly tie together.

On Sunday afternoon, Draco went into Diagon Alley to pick up treacle tarts for Hermione, something she didn't normally eat but had demanded that morning. He'd thought it odd, his mind already going to the most likely—or most _hopeful_ —reason before stepping into the busy street with his hands tucked into his robes. He'd passed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and waved to George when the man had called out to him.

He'd picked up a toy a child dropped.

It had been a perfectly normal day where he would meet Granger at the Burrow for a Sunday dinner, treacle tarts in hand.

Draco probably should have known that it was anything but normal after bumping into Astoria outside the shop. Her eyes had dropped to the bag in his hand, a sneer already forming on her face as she said, "For your wife? A witch should watch her figure."

He watched his wife's figure _plenty_ , thank you.

"Astoria," he said. "I would say it's nice to see you, but I'd rather not lie." Draco clenched his jaw, and tightened his grip on the bag. "I'd meant to stop by at the end of the week, after the last request so thank you for saving me the trip."

She laughed, a loud, obnoxious sound.

That had been all. Nothing terrible had happened, beyond the insult to Granger which he'd left out. In fact, Draco's day had returned to what it was supposed to be immediately after. He'd gone home to Hermione where she backed him to the kitchen table while thanking him between kisses for the treacle tarts, and while unbuttoning his shirt. They had been late to the Burrow, and she'd been careful to keep her hair down to hide the love bites at the base of her throat.

On Tuesday, the door to his shared office banged open and Potter tossed the Prophet onto his desk. It skidded across, sending parchment flying in several directions. "Potter, what are—" The words lodged in his throat as the headline stared at him, written in bold letters as a photograph moved below it. "Astoria's pregnant?"

"Apparently. This ran today, but Skeeter put the best spin on it she could. I have a hard time believing Astoria didn't have anything to do with it."

Maybe that was the case, but it didn't matter. What mattered was this photograph of Draco running into Astoria in Diagon Alley two days before, and the quote in the article of how _he'd planned to stop by later in the week, but she'd save him a trip._ Merlin, it sounded terrible.

"No one is going to buy this rubbish." Potter shrugged. "I figured you'd want to know anyway. Are you going to see Hermione?"

With a terse nod, Draco rushed toward the door.

"Oh, _thank you, Harry. You really have my best interests at heart. Honestly, the best bloody partner I could ever have—"_

"Fuck off!" Draco called over his shoulder.

* * *

"Have you seen today's Prophet?" Draco blurted, one step into the room.

Granger glanced over her shoulder, and held a finger to her lips. "If you wake him, I swear to God…" She laid the sleeping baby in the crib nearest to her, and led him from the room. "Are you yelling about Astoria?"

He blinked. "So, you've seen it. Granger, I didn't mean to see her, and Skeeter's just as foul as she's ever been."

To his surprise, she laughed. "I know that. You told me about her when you came home. Or, you tried but we were rather preoccupied with my appreciation of treacle tarts."

Draco snorted loudly, and grimaced when she shushed him. "I thought you might be upset, but rationally it makes more sense that you're not."

"Of course not," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's probably her latest attempt to ruin your relationship. Astoria thinks if she can't have you, no one should. I don't really mind that though, since I got you, and she's painting herself as a petty witch every time she casts a spotlight on herself. Now, surely you didn't leave the Ministry just for this."

"I decided to take a longer break," Draco said as though the decision hadn't been made right then. "Do you have enough time for me to take you to lunch?"

Granger hooked her arm through his. "You have impeccable timing. It just so happens that I do. Though, I think I'd rather go to our flat to eat."

"You're a wicked witch," he rapsed, leaning down to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "You have no intention of eating at all."

Side-Apparition landed them in the bedroom, and she laughed as he crawled between her thighs.


	19. Chapter 19

She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels in as he backed her to the wall until the curve of her spine met it. "I don't think this is what you're meant to do on a meal break," Granger's back arched as his lips slid down the smooth path of her neck. "I'm not complaining, of course but we'll never hear the end of it if Harry comes looking for you early."

It reminded him that he really ought to update the wards on the flat sometime since these mid-day trysts had become a habit. Only in their flat. Never in his office, not that he would have minded. To see her spread across his desk served as a constant fantasy. Never while she was working, for rather obvious reasons. Still, Granger always arrived in their sitting room moments before he did.

Today, she'd already been unbuttoning her blouse and had let it fall to the floor as he watched her.

"I'd rather not discuss Potter while I fuck you." Draco slid into her, curling his fingers around her wrists before pinning them above her head. "Besides, he'll only make that mistake once."

She rocked against him, a wicked little smile curving her mouth, and threw her head back once she came.

* * *

Weeks passed like that. Stolen moments taken in the middle of the day. Staying up until the early morning hours while they laid in bed—sometimes taking pleasure from the other—but mostly, Granger sat with her back to the headboard while they talked.

They talked and _talked_ and on one occasion, Draco said he'd be happy to do just that. There had been a remark about watching the shape of her lips, as pretty as they were, but it was impossible not to become enraptured by her. There was the way she talked about the uphill battle that involved Wolfsbane, and how it wasn't fair, but she would make it so.

Granger told him things he knew she'd never told anyone else. Christmas traditions she'd created, and followed with her family. The growing hobby that was cooking, and how house elves at the orphanage had taught her the perfect recipe while using magic.

They talked about the war, and with all of their wounds finally healing, it felt like a conversation they needed to have. Or perhaps _they_ didn't need it, but she did.

Even Granger's pretty mouth wasn't enough to distract him from the sound of Voldemort's name when it filled the space between them. "I imagine it must have been so much worse for you—to have lived under the same roof with him—and for Harry—who lived with _him_ inside his head—but sometimes I,"

Draco didn't interrupt her even though he was certain of what she was about to say.

"I have nightmares still," she settled with.

"I know," Draco said. Her eyes snapped to his, and he continued, "You talk in your sleep, sometimes. I've shared a bed with you many times, and I remember what it was like in our last year of Hogwarts. You've only ever made a sound when you're trapped in a nightmare."

Slowly, she blinked. "What do I sound like?"

He swallowed. "You sound like you trying not to make a sound at all." A chill unfurled on his spine, and he watched her gaze fall to the rumpled sheets. "You've not been having them often, have you?" Granger hadn't stirred in some time. In the last week however, that hadn't been the case. Twice now he'd woken up to find sweat formed across her brow, and her lips parted in a low whimper.

"It's fairly normal that I would have them on the anniversary of the final battle," Granger said softly. "Other than that, I haven't had them in a few years."

"Did you have them still after we broke up?"

She'd gone completely still, an answer all on it's own. "Draco, there's no use in asking questions that will only serve to hurt us now." But then, she sighed. "I started to have them again, yes but you can't blame yourself for that. It wasn't fair to you for me to use you—"

He'd been happy for her to use him, if only to chase away the terrible dreams that had haunted her.

"All that matters now is that we're here. I don't know what has brought all of this on, but I need a decent night's sleep." She sunk down beside him. "I think I'll call my healer tomorrow and see if a dose of Dreamless Sleep can be taken alongside my daily potion."

Nodding, Draco opened his arm as she pressed into his side.

* * *

They didn't talk about children. About the law. About Pansy when she learned that she was pregnant, other than congratulations.

But Draco felt how it was woven into their lives so delicately that made it clear—there was no way to fully avoid it. Granger's eyes would stray to toys, infant clothes, and cribs that were strategically placed in the windows as a baby boom struck the wizarding world. Even shops that had never carried such merchandise, suddenly did. His favorite Quidditch shop had placed a display of onesies at the front of the store, carrying one for each professional team.

Unknown to his wife, he'd purchased one for Puddlemere United. His hopes that this might become real for them—that her potions would work—weren't something he'd shared with his wife. It was already so difficult for her, but she hadn't shared those thoughts with him either. Yet, she saw it in most things. He'd seen her with children at the orphanage, watched her as she swallowed tightly when small children toddled through Diagon Alley while holding fast to their parents.

The culmination of his hopes of the life he'd come dangerously close to never having with her, and her own had resulted in the spontaneous purchase of a onesie. Draco turned it over while he sat in his chair, leaned back in his office. It was such a tiny piece of clothing, and his hands dwarfed it. He could hardly imagine holding a baby— _a baby—_ in those hands.

His hands that had harmed others.

In fact, Draco couldn't believe that he deserved such a future, but he pushed the thought away. Knitted cotton was soft against his fingertips, and he carefully folded it before stowing it away inside the bottom right drawer of his desk.

* * *

"You'll be late," Granger moaned, her head tipping backward as her fingers dug into satin sheets. She arched her back then, legs trembling as he rested between them—his head between her thighs—and grinned. "We'll have plenty of time for— _God!"_

He swiped his tongue over her clit once and then twice while watching her scramble to prop herself up on her forearms. "I have plenty of time, darling. You don't think I would leave you like this, would you?" Draco's words were emphasized by the way his tongue slid between her lips, sliding against sensitive flesh while she rocked against him.

"I _know_ —" Granger whimpered. She knotted her fingers in his hair. "I know that if I let you have a little bit, you'll take as much as you can get."

"Merlin forbid I want to start your birthday off right." He tightened his fingers around her thighs, and lowered his head once more.

She writhed against the pillows, reaching up to sink her fingers into her hair while pushing her hips against him. "That was your excuse at _midnight_ — _there, there, there—_ "

While pumping two fingers into her cunt, curling against her walls, he traced her clit with his tongue.

Granger cried out his name before digging her fingers into his hair, trapping strands between her fingers and tugging. Her thighs tightened where they sat over his shoulders, and her back arched, and a delicious keening sound fell away from her as his lips wrapped around that sensitive nub. Draco suckled gently, teeth grazing her, and she cried out louder than she had before.

Slowly, he continued to lick her swollen cunt, reaching up to lace his fingers through hers while never breaking eye contact. She whimpered under him, murmuring, "So sensitive" —and he pulled away— " _No, no, don't stop."_

Granger pulled him up, fisting slender fingers in his hair again, and peered up at him. "We're already late," she whispered, slanting her lips over his. "We might as well finish."

"Oh, there's not nearly enough time for to do all the things I want to do to you."

Lips curving up into a smirk, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself against him. His cock slid between her slick folds, and she tilted her head to the side. "I want to feel you" —she dragged her nails down his chest, grazing his nipple— "inside of me right now. I want you to be thinking of me all day."

Draco groaned. "I guarantee I'll be thinking of little else."

She always gave a low, delicious gasp when he slid into her. "I love the way your cock feels," Hermione moaned, digging her fingers into his forearms. "Love the way it feels when you're stretching me—"

"You have such a filthy fucking mouth." And it was one of the things he loved about her.

Rolling her hips against his, and biting her lower lip as he slid into her fully, Granger whispered his name in his ear. "Harder, Draco. I want to feel you for the entire day."

He gripped the headboard, and slammed into her. She met each thrust with a perfect press of her hips, and she scratched his chest, his forearms—anywhere she could reach—as he fucked her. Draco heard himself as he growled her name more than once, and listened to her mewls of pleasure below him. "Come for me again, sweetheart." Draco pressed his thumb against her clit, slowly rubbing it.

She lifted her hips, chasing that sensation. "Draco—"

"I want to feel your cunt tighten around my cock, love. I want to feel how fucking good it feels when you come all over my cock."

Hermione gasped. She threw her head back.

She held onto his shoulders while his fingers quickened, as did his thrusts. "Yes, God—Draco, please fill me full—"

It always got him.

The sound of her begging to be filled full of come.

It had been no sooner that Hermione shrieked that she was coming that he put all of his weight against the headboard as he spilled inside of her.

Granger peeked up at him, and then to his hands. "You— Oh, my _God._ "

Startled, Draco followed her eyes and smirked.

"You broke our headboard."

"You did say you wanted to feel me for the entire day," Draco purred. "I was just fulfilling the birthday girl's wishes. You can hardly be mad at me for that."

Granger looked as though she wanted to be angry, or to laugh but she couldn't decide which one. "It's a charmed set. We can't fix it ourselves. We'll have to take it back to the shop."

Draco pressed his lips to her brow. "I certainly didn't hear your complaining."

She titled her head up to his. "We're so late."

"Join me in the shower?" He whispered. "I promise to be on my best behavior. I promise that I'll only help you…" Fingers spread down her thighs, then her sides until they brushed against her breasts.

"If you're actually on your best behavior, I'll meet you here during your lunch hour."

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Granger led him into the shower, where ultimately she decided to sink to her knees in order to _return the favor._

Draco couldn't say he complained.

* * *

They spend a few hours that evening with their friends while toasting to another year of Granger, to making the next year better than the last, and her eyes had cut to him when she said that it _would_ be better than the last. After a few glasses of elf-wine, she'd whispered in his ear about whether or not he would be administering birthday spankings once they got home, and his cock had hardened in his trousers. Her fingers wandering under the table hadn't helped to relieve him either, only to work him up.

She leaned into Pansy while whispering about baby names. Potter brought Cho Chang, who fell into their small group rather nicely.

He'd paid attention to the entire night, truly, but he would have been lying if he said he hadn't been focused solely on the witch to his right while they sat in the leaky Cauldron.

But that calmness had evaporated once they landed in their fireplace, and Granger wrapped his tie around her knuckles while pulling him toward the bedroom. "I have a few things I'd like you to do with his," she murmured and tugged on his tie once more.

Draco forced himself to swallow, and said softly, "Wait a minute, Hermione."

She frowned, his tone landing lower than it had been meant to. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," he rushed. "Just sit down with me for a moment. I promise we'll spend the rest of the night doing whatever you like." As she sat, Granger sat a few inches away from him rather than while still touching him. There was an uneasiness to her, and he sighed. "I meant for it to be a surprise, and I thought it would be better to tell you in private."

She blinked.

"My father is lobbying money in order to overturn the marriage law." Draco spoke quietly, and watched her eyes widen. "While I believe your guilt for your involvement was misplaced, I know that guilt was valid. He spoke to me this morning, and told me that hopefully, by the anniversary next year, it will have been enough."

Again, Granger blinked. She shifted on the sofa, and her throat gave a small motion as she swallowed. "I thought that this, that _we_ were going well?"

"What? Of course—" It struck him then what she must have thought. He hadn't considered that this would be a thought to go through her mind. Not even more a moment. "Granger, I don't want to overturn the law because I don't want you."

"It's just," she exhaled. "It's the wine. I may have had too much, and I jumped to a conclusion…"

Draco pulled her into him, and sat her in hip lap. "Do you want to know a secret?"

Her eyes were so much prettier up close, and he didn't look away from them as she nodded. "Is it a good secret?"

"I love you." He stroked the curve of her mouth with his thumb. "I love you so desperately that it pains me, sometimes. I want to remain married to you, no matter the outcome."

Her lips parted, and a shallow breath slipped away from her. Granger turned in his lap, straddling his waist and leaned for forehead to his. "I adore you," she murmured. "I believe that you were made for me to love, that I was made for you to love."

Draco watched her eyes begin to water, and tightened his arms around her waist.

"I believe that I've spent so much time pretending _not_ to love you, that I cannot imagine wasting another moment. I love you." Granger framed his face in her hands, pressing the softest kiss he'd ever felt to his mouth, and he ached for her when she pulled away. "I loved you when I was eighteen. I love you now, and I'll love you tomorrow. And every day after. Every year. Every—"

He struggled to find the voice to thank her for loving him when he was in pieces, for loving him after he made himself whole again. But in true fashion, Hermione murmured that she already knew all of those things as they stumbled over their clothes as they were discarded, and made their way to their bedroom.

* * *

Draco Malfoy fancied himself as a smart man, and when Granger started to hide Honeydukes chocolate from him—and when she managed to get both Draco, Potter, _and_ Weasley to pick them up for her—he hadn't said anything. One of two things would have happened immediately: she would have taken one of those muggle test sticks she kept, and it would have been positive. Or it would have been negative.

Considering how unlucky they had been so far, Draco had to lean toward the chance of it being negative. It already chipped away at her so much, and he couldn't stand to be the reason it happened again. He thought of the Puddlemere United onesie he'd stashed away often. More often than not, Granger would be late coming home from the orphanage. So late, in fact, that Draco had started going straight there after leaving the Ministry.

They read to the kids together, in different voices and all. He helped put them to bed, helped tuck them in, and checked under countless beds for monsters.

There was nothing like watching Granger with them, or the way her eyes lit up each time.

And there was nothing that stung quite as much as watching her step into the fireplace at the end of the night.

His hand found hers, and Draco threaded their fingers together. "We could stay the night, if you wanted." Between them, his voice felt a touch too loud.

Granger cast a look down the corridor, and shook her head slightly. "No," she sighed. "That would make it even worse when I did leave."

* * *

She wasn't unhappy.

Granger never cried, but the shift in her mood was undeniable. Each morning, she took the daily potion, and then she set into staying busy.

And then it was different, all over again.

"Draco," she poked him in the side. Her hair brushed over his bare chest when he cracked one eye open. When he looked, it was still dark outside. "It's early."

"I can see that." Draco looped an arm around her waist, and played with the spare strands that had come undone from his shirt that she wore. "What is it? Did a Patronus from—"

Hermione shook her head, hair slipping from the elastic in her hair. "No, nothing like that. I want to take another pregnancy test."

He sat up quickly, no longer tired. The sheets bunched around his waist, and Draco searched her face for any visible signs that she was upset. "Alright. A muggle one?"

"Yes. Are you going to ask why I keep taking muggle tests?"

"No." But he couldn't say he wasn't curious.

Hermione slipped out of bed, and waited for him to do the same before leading him into the loo. "The second I start asking a healer to perform the charm is the second they start looking at me with more pity than they already do. It's bad enough that they know how likely it is that I'm infertile, Draco. I can't stand for someone to look at me as though I'm a failure too."

He froze in the doorway, eyes focused on her back as she didn't stop at all. "Hermione, you're not a failure. Having children doesn't make you accomplished, and I know you know that."

She rummaged through the drawer. "Of course I do. It doesn't mean I like the way they look at me, though. Pansy—" Granger broke off. "She understands it better than anyone else can because she experienced the same thing. Molly never let off about children, and stranger— _complete strangers—_ would ask her if she was pregnant in public. I hate every single part of it, and I intend to distance myself from it as much as possible."

"Strangers? Did that—"

His wife turned to face him, already tearing the white wrapper away. "Did they treat me like that? Yeah, they did, and Pansy threatened to turn them into frogs."

Draco hadn't known.

"Don't look like that. I didn't want to tell you, and I probably should have, but I didn't want to bring _that_ into our space." He heard the message perfectly well. Granger glanced down at the test, and then back to him. "I constantly think that this will be the time it works out when I look at one of these, did you know that? Molly says that a witch just knows when she's pregnant, but that can't be true. I think that every time I buy one of these."

He wanted to pull her against his chest, but Draco didn't think that was what Granger wanted.

She leaned against the counter, his shirt coming to the stretch of skin above her thighs. "I'm devastated every time it's negative. I don't know why I keep doing this."

"Don't you?" For a moment, Draco feared he'd said the wrong thing, but if that were the case, he didn't really know what the right thing was either.

"Yeah." Granger nodded. "Because one of these times, I have to be right. I threw up this morning." There was a beat of silence. "I threw up on Lucius' shoes."

A harsh laugh lodged in his throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Alright, get out." Granger shut the door behind him.

The wait for her to open the door again was short. Granger ripped it open and yanked him inside. "It's going to be negative. Merlin, Draco, I shouldn't have—" She dragged a hand down her face. "This was a mistake."

Draco slid down the wall, until he sat in the floor, and pulled her down with him. His legs bracketed hers, and he massaged her shoulders beneath a layer of curls. "I love you," he murmured, and wrapped both arms around her chest.

Granger's hands came up, and her fingers curled around his forearms while she pressed her chin against his arm. "Thank you for loving me."

"I think that may be my line, sweetheart."

She didn't laugh. "I want it to be positive."

His head fell forward, and Draco nuzzled her cheek. "I do too."

Her grip on him didn't lessen, and three minutes later, she asked him to look. "I can't." Granger kept her eyes on their feet.

Draco reached for it, and said, "Remind me what each sign means again?" Honestly, he couldn't imagine anything worse than telling her the wrong thing because he didn't understand muggle technology.

"A plus sign means positive." She didn't give him the chance to speak before continuing. "It's fine, I know it's negative. Just let me off the floor."

"You're _sure_ a plus sign means positive?"

" _Yes,_ I'm sure. I think I've seen enough negatives to know."

Right, that had been a shitty thing to say. Draco drew a breath, staring at the test still. He wondered if she could feel his heart so close to beating out of his chest. "Granger, it's not negative." He heard himself whisper it, felt her stiffen, and he watched her slowly turn, watched her tilt her head up.

Her lips parted. "Really?" It was the softness of her voice that cut across his chest, the disbelief that hung in a single word. "Draco, are you _sure_? I thought that once too, but it was—"

Draco tightened one arm around her waist, and held it in front of her face. "Yeah, sweetheart. I'm sure."

Her fingers trembled as she reached up to grab it.

He kept holding on to the other side, and right in the middle, there was a definitive plus sign.

"Sweet fucking Merlin, I'm going to be a _father_." The giggle that earned him was the best thing he'd heard in days. "Do you think I'll be a good one?"

Granger slumped against him. "The best."

"Oh, that's certainly reserved for you." He laughed, and pressed his lips to her temple.


	20. Chapter 20

They agreed not to tell anyone until it was confirmed by healers, at the least. Granger was terrible at keeping a secret though, and he imagined Pansy would know by the end of the week. Then Weasley, who also couldn't keep a secret. Not that he minded either. Granger wasn't the only one who wanted to blurt it out.

Her appointment fell on a Wednesday, early in the morning, when he was supposed to be in a mission briefing with his partner and Robards. While the head auror knew where he was at—and probably guessed why this appointment wasn't one to miss—Potter likely hadn't pieced it together yet. Draco could hear the questions he'd ask now, and he could imagine the irritation on Potter's face when he was brushed off.

Seated on the bed, Granger fidgeted. She picked at her nails and bounced her knee, looking toward the door expectedly toward the door every thirty second. "What if it was wrong?"

"It wasn't wrong."

"I don't think you trust muggle technology, Draco. So, forgive me if I think you're just saying that to make me feel better." She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her hands in the over sized sweater she wore, and refused to look at him.

He rolled the stool he sat on closer to her. "I may not trust muggle technology usually, but I trust _you_. So, if you believe those little sticks are accurate, then I do too."

Granger's eyes began to water, and she furiously wiped her face with her sleeve. "Oh, God. If I am pregnant—"

"You are."

"I'm crying at the most insignificant things." She groaned. "I don't want to spend all my time crying."

To be fair, he also didn't want that, but he wasn't foolish enough to admit it. "I'm sure that will pass."

"You hope it will."

Again, he didn't comment. Draco took her hands in his, and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Slow, reassuring strokes until her breathing leveled out. "Look at me, Granger. You're pregnant, and that isn't going to change. A healer is going to come in here, perform the charm, and confirm it for you. Nothing else is going to happen."

"It can't be that easy. One in four witches miscarry."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't possible for them, but it would be a lie, and he had no desire to lie to her. She would have known anyway.

"I'm terrified," he began, resigned. "You're not the only one who's read the books you bring home, Granger. I know all of it too."

"You read them?" Her eyes widened. "When did you have the time?"

"Work," he shrugged. "I spend quite a bit of time in my office, love. After you go to sleep, I read them too. You're never alone in this, and I'm—I'm scared too."

Granger nodded, and held his hands close to her stomach. "Then you know that most miscarriages happen within the first trimester. Twelve weeks— _God_. I don't want to wait three months to tell our friends, and our family, but if we… if we lost the baby, I don't know I'd want anyone to know."

He'd known this was coming, and hindsight hadn't made it any easier since leaving the Ministry early that morning.

"Hermione, I don't think we'll have a choice in that part."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Confirmed pregnancies are reported to the Ministry, and you know that. Those records aren't—" He raked his fingers through his hair. "They're not published with names, but it seems that they're not all that closely guarded either."

Granger stiffened, her eyes narrowing, and he wished that this wasn't one more thing the Ministry had taken from her. "You mean to say that because of who we are, it's so likely it will be leaked."

Slowly, Draco nodded. "It was something I ran down this morning. I hadn't thought of it before, but there have been a few pregnancies reported in the Prophet already, and when I checked, none of them had told anyone yet."

She pulled away from him, and buried her face in her hands. "Who was the reporter?"

"Skeeter."

"Of course it was." Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the room, and she flicked her eyes toward the door. "We'll tell our friends, and our family, and when Rita Skeeter publishes my private life for the public, I'll deal with it."

Draco tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, grinning wildly as her face darkened. "Have I told you this morning how deeply in love with you I am?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Not today."

"That's a travesty if I've ever heard one."

* * *

Potter was the first one he saw when he got to the Ministry. "You know, if you're going to skip out on briefings, you could at least let me know." Potter laid into him, dragging his fingers through his hair while leading him down the corridor. "We're running point on a stake out tonight. The DMLE got intel that a shipment of illegal cache of potions is landing in Diagon Alley tonight. Pretty ugly stuff, but Robards thinks the wizard at the head of it will make an appearance."

It would be a late night then. One he didn't particularly want to spend with his partner while Granger was at home. Draco didn't say anything as they moved past a crowd of aurors, and a surprised sound slipped out of him when Potter hauled him into their shared office with his fingers knotted in his collar. "A little warning would be nice, you messy-haired—"

"You need to work on your insults."

"Oh, fuck off."

Potter stood with his arms folded over his chest, and his glasses were skewed. Typical. "Robards is a great auror, but he's not a good liar when it comes to people. So, why don't you tell me why you were really late?"

Taking his time, and inwardly laughing at the crease in his partner's brow, Draco rounded his desk. "What did Robards tell you?"

Harry's mask of irritation slipped. "He said you fell in the shower."

Draco whirled around. "He told you _what_? I would never—"

"You did fall in the showers here, once." Harry reminded him, unhelpfully. "I remember because I had to pick you up—"

"Stop."

"And I also remember that we _both_ slipped, and Goldstein came to check on us—"

"For the love of God, please stop talking. I don't need the visual."

"Then tell me the real reason you missed the meeting because I know you'd never tell anyone that you fell in the shower."

He gripped the edge of his desk, and sighed. "Granger's pregnant. It was confirmed this morning by her healer."

For a second, the look on Harry's face didn't change, but then he grinned broadly. "Yeah?" He crossed the room in two steps, hugged Draco, and clapped him on the back. "You're gonna be parents."

The lead finally dropped in his stomach as the excitement began to ebb away. God, he'd never imagined being a father. "Yeah, luckily Granger's the best in everything she does because I—"

"Don't do that," Harry shook his head. "You're great too. Maybe not the best since I'm here, and I am the savior and all, but you're alright."

Draco punched him in the shoulder. "You've clearly mastered the ability to insult me while reassuring me."

"Oh, that?" Harry shrugged. "Learned from the biggest arsehole I know."

* * *

The mission couldn't even really be called one, considering how easy it had been. From where they sat on the edge of the roof overhead, Draco handed over the spelled binoculars. "He's stumbling over his feet."

"Yeah," Harry clicked his tongue. "Looks like he's been using his own supply."

The wizard below them tripped over a split in the pavement, and his wand flew out of his hand. "It's almost too easy." Draco sighed. "Shall me put him out of his misery and bring him in?" At Harry's nod, he dropped off the roof, landing quietly behind their suspect.

He tried to run, but he tripped anyway.

* * *

Granger was awake when he slid into the bedroom, and his bag slipped from his hand. "I thought you would be asleep still," Draco kicked off his boots, and undid the buttons of his cuffs. "Don't tell me you were waiting up for me."

She rolled her eyes, and lifted the book in her lap for him to see. Surprisingly, it wasn't one of her many parenting books. "I picked up a book after I left the orphanage tonight. I meant to only read a few chapters, but…"

"You're nearly done." He snorted. Draco climbed into bed with her, and dropped a kiss to her shoulder. "Well, don't let me bother you. I'll be sleeping, pretending I don't exist."

Granger laughed, and pinched his shoulder. "Stop it. You're back earlier than I expected though. What happened?"

Draco shrugged, and watched her lay beside him—her book forgotten—and she propped her head up in her hand. "He decided to take some of the potions he sold. It didn't go so well for him."

She hummed under her breath, and shuffled closer to him. "That makes for an uneventful night." Granger squeezed her eyes shut as he slid his hand up her inner thigh. "Harry mentioned something today, and when I asked about it more, he told me to ask you."

Letting his head fall to the pillow, he peered up at her. "Go on then. What is it?"

"You fell in the shower at work once." She said with a straight face.

He was going to _kill_ Potter. Weasley would be a fine replacement partner.

"You never told me about that."

"I wonder why," he rolled his eyes. "I pulled my hamstring, and Potter had to pick me up. Well, showers tend to be _slippery_ , so we both fell. Then Goldstein came to check on the noise—which was _me_ crying out because your boy-wonder elbowed my _cock_."

She burst into laughter. In fact, Granger laughed until her eyes were watering. "Oh—my _God_."

"Yes, yes, laugh it up, sweetheart. Anyway, Goldstein walked in and found us rather close together, and we nearly never lived it down. I considered erasing his memory, but Potter reminded me that I was still on probation while in training."

She was still giggling. "How did you pull your hamstring?"

"Well, if you ask Anthony Goldstein, it's because I fucked Harry Potter too rigorously." Unable to help it, he laughed too. "It happened in training, and this was right after Potter informed me that we had been selected to be partners."

"I see."

"It was also after he punched me in the face for breaking your heart." It was as he said it, that he realized he had never told her about that. "I suppose you want me to tell you about that now too. The day we became partners, he shattered my nose and told me it was years overdue."

Her eyes were wide, and her lips had parted. "He never told me about that."

"I can't imagine why he would have, Granger."

"I just- I remember when your nose was broken, and I had no idea Harry had done it. I even asked him, and he said it had been someone you arrested."

Draco arched a brow. "You asked him? Were you worried about me?"

Her lips flattened. "I was always worried about you. Did Ron attack you too?"

"No," Draco said slowly. "But I thought he was going to when he learned I showed up at your flat in the middle of the night."

She smiled. "He asked me if I wanted you to leave me alone, you know. Ron wanted to know if you were bothering me, and I told him I didn't know. I also told him he should let me make my own decisions."

"And how did that go?"

The curve that came to her mouth was vicious. "Ron made sure to remind me that if I was unhappy, he does have a brother that works on a dragon reserve."

Merlin.

* * *

Granger invited his parents over for dinner, and she'd planned to tell them over dinner, after plying his mother with wine. She'd been rocking back on her heels all day, nearly gnawing a hole in her bottom lip in the process while she was at it, and Draco dropped his hand to her shoulders. "You need to relax. They'll be thrilled."

"I know that." Still, she chewed her bottom lip. "I'm not worried they'll be unhappy, but don't you think it's still a little awkward telling them?"

"I'm fairly certain my parents are aware of how babies are made, Granger. And I don't think they'll be thinking of that when you tell them they're going to be grandparents."

She lowered her hand to her stomach. Granger had taken to doing that recently. "In any case, I'm still nervous."

In hindsight, he probably ought to have known that her nerves would cause something to go off the rails. What other luck did they have?

His parents arrived right on time, as expected. Lucius pecked Hermione on the cheek. Narcissa wrapped Draco in a tight hug before moving to Hermione, and complimenting the dress she wore. For a moment, it'd been just as planned, and then it wasn't.

Lucius presented a bottle of wine to Hermione. "Your favorite," Lucius smirked, and pressed it into Hermione's hands.

"I can't take this," Hermione's fingers had turned white from tightening on the bottle.

"Nonsense," Lucius hung his outer robes on the hook beside the fireplace. "I didn't pay for it, if that's what has you concerned. It came straight from our wine cellar."

Draco saw what was happening before it occurred, and he tried to hide his smile. Not that it worked very well.

Hermione audibly cleared her throat. "No, I mean to say I can't drink this."

His mother's eyes snapped to attention, while his father merely continued to look confused.

"I'm pregnant." The admission was so quiet that Draco could have imagined it. "We found out this week that we're—" Granger shrieked when Lucius wrapped in a tight hug, and lifted her right off her feet. "You're going to be such a great grandpa." Hermione murmured, and squeezed Lucius. "And you," she grinned while reaching for Narcissa. "You're going to be brilliant."


	21. Chapter 21

Granger's potions changed the week after their appointment at St Mungos, and now, she grumbled that she should have never complained about taking one potion in the morning now that she had four to take. However, she did say that she'd yet to experience any nausea like Pansy's. And knowing what Weasley had told him of Pansy's morning sickness, Draco counted his own wife as lucky.

Or he had, up until he woke up to the sound of her wretching just over a month later. Draco found her in the loo, and sank to the tile beside her. He held her hair back, and didn't say a word for the entire twenty minutes that started the day.

"They suggested another potion," she managed before leaning forward again. "So far, it's not agreeing with me." Granger let him help her to her feet, and Draco leaned against the wall as she brushed her teeth. She took even longer to wash her mouth out. "Shouldn't you be leaving right now?"

"I'm fine right here, thank you."

"You can't be late just because I'm sick, Draco." Granger wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, and tugged her shirt over her head as she padded across their bedroom. Rifling through the wardrobe, she dressed quickly, and pulled a knitted sweater over her head. "Besides, you'll see me this afternoon for my appointment, won't you?"

Draco unfolded his arms, and nodded. "Sometimes, I truly regret my career choice." He came to stand behind her, and rested his hands on her waist.

She didn't look back at him as she said, "No, you don't."

"I do, sometimes. Usually when I have to leave you."

"Such a charmer," Granger muttered. "I'll meet you at the Ministry this afternoon, and then we'll go to St Mungos together." She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt and tugged him forward. Granger relaxed against him as her lips pressed to his, and pulled away from him before either of them could get carried away. "Sorry, but I'm late." Her apology didn't seem to mean very much though, considering she stroked his cock through the bottoms he wore.

He groaned. "I'm taking a cold shower before work."

She grinned. "Think of me."

He always did.

* * *

Like any other sort of changes, they started slowly and then it felt like every time he stopped to look at their life, everything had shifted. Draco wondered if Granger noticed it, if she thought about it the way he did.

Of course she did. Granger was a witch that thought of everything, analyzed it before she did it, and she would be the first to realize their life today was not the same one it had been a week ago. A month ago, even.

There was a slight swell to her stomach now, and her hands constantly gravitated toward it. When she taught him how to use her muggle appliances that kept multiplying—or when she _tried_ to teach him. Draco hadn't managed to work all the buttons on the mixer yet. She cupped that bump when she read to children in the orphanage, when she bounced a child on her hip while holding the hand of another.

He'd been on patrols with Potter just this week, and made a stop in Diagon Alley where he knew his wife would be. With two children in tow that he knew had recently come to the orphanage under the sort of circumstances that made her eyes well up when she told him, Granger stood in Flourish and Blotts. She held the smaller one, bracing him on her hip, and held the hand of the other boy, who didn't tear his eyes from her.

Potter rolled his eyes when Draco veered off the set path that was their regular patrol, and Draco pointed out how he hadn't complained when it was Cho they went to see.

Their second monthly appointment came and went, with the third being scheduled like clockwork. Granger grumbled over daily potions because the newest one tasted bitter all the way down her throat.

Granger poked a finger into his shoulder early in the morning before the sun had broke the horizon, and she was staring at him when he finally opened one eye. "Are you awake?"

"Well," he drawled. "I am now. What is it?" Previously, Draco believed the stories of pregnant women to be grossly exaggerated. No witch could truly have the odd cravings his mother spoke of, or the stories that came too. However, he was a foolish wizard and now he knew that all the stories were true.

If he was lucky, Granger would blink twice in the terribly endearing way that would make him crumble, and ask for something from the treat shop around the corner. He'd even take Hogsmeade, if she wanted chocolate, but he imagined this would be another trip into the muggle world.

"I want to fuck."

He stilled.

Granger had a mouth on her, there could be no doubt about that, and while she was a bold type of witch with a list of moments to prove that, she wasn't typically so brazen about this.

"What?"

"Do I really need to repeat it?"

Well, not when she said it like _that_ and looked at him like _this_. "How long have you been awake?"

She clicked her tongue, and moved to straddle him. Granger sat in his lap, her thighs parted and resting on either side of him. "Half an hour. I tried to get myself off, since you have to work early and I know you're tired…"

Draco propped himself up on his elbows as she leaned down to brush her mouth against his. "Always wake me up, Granger." He slid his hand between them, finding her bare from the waist down. "Sweet Circe, you're so wet for me."

Hermione tore his shirt over her head and cupped his face in her hands as he rolled them. He was careful not to rest his weight against her. "Please," she whined, and lifted her hips to his.

With her curls trapped between his fingers, he slid into her, and groaned when her legs tightened around his waist.

* * *

In the third month that was Granger's pregnancy, she was still insatiable, and he never complained to be dragged from sleep by her mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses against his shoulder, or her tongue laving against the dips of his collarbone.

"Honestly," she huffed. "No pregnant witch has any business being this horny, _all of the time_."

Potter choked behind him, and Draco watched her face redden. "Uh, present." Potter managed. "Sorry, Hermione. I didn't meant to—I just need to give these to Draco, you know."

"I could give a fuck." Hermione said evenly, arms folded over her chest. The way she pressed her thighs together went unnoticed by his partner, but Draco lifted a brow. "You'll know exactly what it's like eventually, and I'm not going to be shy about it either."

Harry tugged his collar. "Right, well, I'll just be going. Shall I shut the door?"

Hermione and Draco both said, "Yes."

The tops of his partner's ears turned pink. "Right then."

When the door closed and the lock clicked into place, Draco looked down at his wife, who currently made herself comfortable in his chair. "You're not really intending to shag me in my office, are you?"

She grinned, hair wild, and kicked her feet up on his desk. "No, but I like the look of fear in his eyes when he thinks I'm going to."

"You are a cruel thing," Draco turns the chair, and sets her feet down on the floor while crouching between her thighs. She's wearing her jeans, the same ones that frame her arse excellently, but also the same pair that she complains don't fit anymore. "What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Pansy bought us a gift today."

He ran his hands over her calves, massaging as he went. If Potter wasn't going to risk coming back into the room anytime soon, he certainly wasn't going to let the chance go to waste. "Oh?"

Granger hummed. "Sex toys."

His touch stilled, and Draco stared at her. "And that's why you're here?"

Her grin grew feral, and she leaned forward. "I just wanted to give you an incentive to come home on time this week."

This week had been long, and now there was a stretch of two hours before he could go home. "Tell me about them, love." Draco's hands resumed their path, now halfway up her thighs while he wished she'd worn a dress so he could rest her legs over his shoulders.

Hermione leaned over and picked up her handbag from his desk, and pulled out…something. "It's a muggle toy." She explained, pressing a button until it began to buzz. "It's called a vibrator. It's used by women for stimulation. Five o'clock," she reminded him, and switched it off.

Draco pulled it from her hand. "Potter won't be back for a while."

"We cannot—"

"We've agreed not to have sex in my office, so we won't." Draco's voice was smooth, and he pressed the head of this toy against the apex of her thighs, smirk already curving his mouth. "I'll drop it, if you want." No pressure, never with her, and he pulled away when she was silent.

Granger cleared her throat, already sounding ragged. "Ten minutes." She allowed him to pull her out of the chair, and to lead her to the small sofa that sat against the wall. If anyone were to open the door, it would give enough time for them to arrange themselves in order not to be caught in the act. It would be obvious they'd been up to something though, and he couldn't bring himself to care then.

Draco sat with his back to the armrest, and waited for him to sit against him with her back to his chest. "Spread your legs, sweetheart."

She whined, low and barely there under her breath, but Granger parted her thighs. Pressing the button again, he pressed the head of the vibrator against her cunt through her jeans and felt her twitch. "Oh, God." Her nails cut into his forearms as she held onto him, and he learned how to change the speeds of the toy quickly.

It was waves of pleasure all at once, with her whimpering under her breath while turning her head to kiss him hard. It was her teeth catching his bottom lip, and clutching him harshly enough to leave marks, and it was him swallowing the weak moans that slipped between her teeth. His name over and over again, low enough that no one outside the room would hear her, but it was so loud in the room.

She lifted her hips, chasing the sensation when the pressure relented and her head fell backward. "God, you fucking _tease._ You are the _worst_."

He wanted to peel her jeans away from her, and settle between her thighs with his mouth on her until she broke apart while screaming. Draco could imagine her pretty cunt, slick and swollen and completely on the edge. "You love this," he murmured in her ear. His spare hand cupped her breast, thumb running over her nipple where it pebbled against the fabric of her bra, and her shirt.

"I do." The admission broke in half, and he turns the toy to the highest setting again. "Draco, I can't be quiet." This much, he knew to be true. She'd never been quiet, but there was no reason to be in their flat with its silencing charms.

Merlin, he would never be able to get any work done ever again in this office.

Draco cupped a hand over her mouth when she sucked in a deep breath, and she knocked the toy away. "Your hands. Now."

He didn't hesitate. Draco flicked the button undone and yanked down her zipper. She was slick under his hand, and he pumped two fingers inside of her, the heel of his palm rubbing against her clit as she turned her head to kiss him at an uncomfortable angle but she didn't pull away. "That's it. Good girl. Ride my fingers."

She arched her back, whimpering through clenched teeth, and when she shuddered under him, Hermione ripped his left hand up.

He covered her mouth, listening to the muffled cry as she squirmed against him, and squeezed her legs together. Sweat had formed on her brow, and her hair was all out of sorts.

"Oh, my fucking Christ." Granger moaned. "We should not have done that." She slumped against him, and tilted her head up. "Straight home after work, yes?"

Draco nodded dumbly.

* * *

The healer told them it was a boy, and Draco ceased to function correctly. He was well aware of the wide grin that spread across his face, and Granger's thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. Granger talked about painting the spare room as a nursery, and shook her head at his parents' suggestion they move into a larger home.

He hadn't listened to why she disagreed, but had caught the words _this is our home._ Draco went through the entire dinner just like that, his head trapped in a thick fog while Granger glanced over at him every so often. His mother might not have noticed his behavior, but his father had.

Lucius didn't address the fear that had rattled him before they left, but he squeezed Draco's shoulder when they left.

"Did you not want a boy?" She asked him later that night as she sat on the sofa. Granger's voice wasn't accusatory, but open. "We never talked about it."

"I would have been happy with a boy, or a girl."

She closed her book, and set it to the side while tucking her legs beneath her. "Then what's wrong?"

Draco's chest deflated, and he sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. "I don't believe I'm going to be a good father." He waited for her to interrupt him, to correct him furiously, but she waited for him. "I haven't given it much thought since we found out, but now it's that much more real."

She rested her chin on her knuckles, and nodded. A soft smile was on her face. "It is."

"There is no getting rid of the Dark Mark. You've accepted that, though I'll never understand. I can't expect the rest of the world to forget about it, but I think of the day my children discover the choices I made and I wonder if they'll inherit your forgiveness to look past it. A son." He swallowed hard. "He'll look just like me, and that's something he'll carry with him. He'll inherit the glares I get, or the mistrust."

The corner of her mouth had fallen. "He'll inherit your determination too, Draco. Not all of you is bad. It never has been. You've always been so content to place me on a pedestal while burying yourself in the mud. Who you were is not who you are. And who've been certainly isn't who you'll be."

"I put you on a pedestal because you say things like _that_."

She laughed. "You'll be a wonderful father. Besides, no one is really the best parent at the beginning. We'll learn as we go, and he won't remember the things we got wrong as much as he remembers what we got right."

Draco grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together. "I'm going to tell him you broke into Gringotts and rode out on a dragon."

Granger snorted loudly. "I'll tell him how I punched you in the face."

"As long as we get the chance to tell the stories first." Draco murmured. "Are you tired?"

"A bit," she nodded. "Do you like the name Hugo?"

He paused at the sudden shift in the conversation. "We'll keep it in mind. What do you think of Scorpius?"

Her nose wrinkled. "We'll keep it in mind."

* * *

With four months to go, his pretty pregnant wife had become a storm. Complete with roaring winds. "Draco, it comes with instructions. Please, for the love of— I'm going to call Harry."

"Don't you dare call Potter!" Draco sat in a mess of parts to a crib that had come from a muggle store. He wanted to buy IKEA and burn it to the ground. When he'd said so much, she snapped that it was one of her favorite stores and she would be put out with him if he did.

Draco didn't know what it would mean for Granger to be _put out_ with him right now.

The ends of her hair sparked. "At least he wouldn't be so prideful. Harry would read the directions!"

"I don't need the bloody directions! I can figure it out, Granger. Give a bloke a chance." He should not have picked this one. God, he _should not have picked this ridiculous fucking contraption._ It had been an agreement—a seemingly fair one, but Granger was cruel.

She picked the shop. He picked the crib. Easy.

It wasn't easy.

"So," Granger rocked back on her heels, dress swaying around her. "Hugo."

God, not this again. "Seriously?"

Her face darkened. "I happen to like the name Hugo, you prick."

Ah, the name calling also came into play in the second trimester. "It's a fine name."

"You hate it."

He winced and snapped the directions open. Draco hid behind them too. "I don't _like_ it, but I wouldn't go so far to say I hate it." Draco absolutely hated it, but she loved it.

"Your holding the directions upside down."

He would have known that had he looked at them properly, but he hadn't gotten around to that yet. "Do you really love the name?"

Granger stood with both hands on her hips. "I'll make you a deal." At the very least, she'd stopped threatening to call Potter. "If you can put this ridiculous crib together without magic, we'll name our son Scorpius."

Without magic. Fuck.

"Deal."

* * *

There were more changes to their life, naturally. Granger became more of a bed hog than normal. She watched movies on the television she brought home without telling him, and Potter put it together because some things were easier to have done rather than Draco learning about more muggle technology. He couldn't say he disagreed with that either.

She went to the bathroom several times in the middle of the night, and he played with her hair until she fell asleep when she came back to bed. Granger constantly apologized for waking him up, but the fact of it was that he didn't really mind.

As the third trimester began—something clearly marked on the calendar she hung in the kitchen—Granger's appointments shifted from monthly to weekly. Then her healer deemed that bed rest until Granger went into labor was the best course of action. It was explained to be a high risk pregnancy, and Draco listened with his heart in his throat while Granger nodded angrily.

"I have things to do." She said, but she didn't contest the news. "I can't pick up children, and bend down to pick up toys." Granger admitted. To be fair, she'd really taken the news better than he expected, considering she never stopped.

* * *

Weasley's Patronus burst into their flat in the middle of the night, and his voice came through the silence. " _Pansy's gone into labor. She wants both of you to come to St Mungos—"_

" _Tell Hermione to get her arse out of bed right now or I swear I'll get her myself—" Pansy's voice broke._

" _Please hurry."_

The terrier vanished, and Hermione turned her head to stare at him. "I need you to put my shoes on."

He blinked, and rubbed his eye. "You want me to put your shoes on…?"

"I want you to put them on me!" Then she muttered something about nearly not being able to see her feet anymore.

Draco jumped out of bed, and summoned them, not one to wait. "Yes, that does make much more sense."

Granger decided that she was perfectly fine going in her pajamas, which was a pair of shorts that fit her hips, but not over her stomach, and his ragged Quidditch top.

"Did you hear her scream?" He asked.

"Contraction." Granger said quietly, and she looked very far away.

* * *

Pansy had gone into labor early. His wife paced the waiting room of St Mungos, biting her nails down to nubs and he tried to coax her into sitting down. "You're not supposed to be on your feet."

She sat and glared at the wall. "Everyone is on their way. They'll be here soon."

Two hours later, after the sun had begun to rise outside the window opposite them, Weasley stepped out, and there was a bundle in his arms. His face was red, streaked with tears that had already been wiped away. "Pansy wants to see the both of you." As he led them away from most of his family, extended and not, Ron turned to them.

"Molly is going to wail if she doesn't get to hold her grandson." Hermione grinned.

"Pansy wanted her god parents to hold him first." Ron said it so matter-of-factly that Draco didn't understand. "We want it to be the two of you."

"I think Potter would be a better choice as godfather." Draco said slowly because this just didn't make sense.

"Yeah, maybe, but Pansy picked for Noah. I'll pick the next. Besides, you should know that Harry will undoubtedly name you the godfather of at least one of his kids too. Besides, it's just good looking out, Malfoy. If something tragic does happen, your vaults are loaded."

It was an honor disguised as an insult. "I always knew you Weasleys were after my galleons."

Granger stood completely still as Ron placed the baby in her arms. "Hello, Noah." She whispered. "Let's go see your mum, shall we?"


	22. Chapter 22

In the last month—in the final weeks really—Draco told her he wouldn't be going on overnight missions anymore and that he planned to take assignments closer to home until Scorpius was born. She flung her arms around him when he told her how planned to take advantage of some time off after he was born too, in order to spend time with them, and because there was not a single chance he would leave her to navigate the beginning alone.

She found him with a parenting book of his own, and Draco let her believe he didn't know she was there, watching from the doorway.

Draco had planned to take her away somewhere for one last weekend, but she was on bed rest. It was no matter, since they both stayed in bed. He moved her telly into the bedroom, and tried to make sense of what she called reality television, and they never made it through a single movie before she pulled him down to her.

They spoke of the fear that never fully went away, and agreed they could manage to be scared together in hushed whispers while her skin slid against his.

When she fell asleep, Hermione murmured sleepily that she loved him, and he laid back for a long while, listening to the even sound of her breathing.

* * *

Not one to wait, Granger went into labor a week early.

He panicked while grabbing the bag that had been ready to go for months now, and skipped over the spot where it sat right next to the Floo. All the while, Hermione stood back and watched him until the next contraction came. Then the bag was in her hand and the incantation hissed through gritted teeth. "I want this baby out of me right now."

Draco nodded, and helped her into the Floo.

* * *

She gripped his hand so tightly he thought it might break, and she screamed with each contraction. Granger had cursed the attending healer up and down each side after learning that due to her current potions, she could not be given the potion to ease the pain.

No one had bothered to tell them that.

"I am going to _kill_ you." Granger snapped, glaring at him. "Aren't you going to say it's not your fault?"

It was not his fault, and she'd remember that too once this was over, but he was a smart man. So, Draco did not say that at all. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Believe me, the first person I talk to after this will be—"

"We're getting ready to push, Hermione. Are you ready?"

The _yes_ was a scream.

It was not the only thing said.

* * *

"I'm sorry," she breathed, fingers loosening around his. "I don't really blame you for the potions. You couldn't have known."

"I know." Draco pressed a kiss to her temple. "I should tell you how brilliant you are. All the time, without fail, you exceed expectations."

She laughed, but the sound was caught in her throat. Somewhere stuck between joy and misery. "You are such a charmer. Are you ready to be parents?"

He flexed his fingers through hers. "I'm still terrified if that's what you're asking, but we'll figure this out together, won't we?"

Granger nodded, her eyes watering. "Of course we will."

"At the very least, Weasley is making all the mistakes we can learn from so far."

She buried her face in his shoulder, and laughed. "God, Pansy went on and on about how it didn't hurt at all. I haven't even had the time to think I should be scared of this part. I'm not though, somehow."

"You're not scared?"

Hermione tensed, and gritted her teeth. Her hand tightened once more, and they were nearly there. "It seems like a waste to be scared now when I'm about to push a baby out of me."

"Potter told me to look, you know."

She choked. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Ron fainted when he did it. Harry just wants to make you faint."

"Potter's a prick."

Staring at the ceiling, Hermione grinned and squeezed her eyes shut. "Some things never change."

* * *

At 3:47 in the morning, a cry broke in the delivery room, and Hermione still didn't relax. She allowed Draco to help her sit upright, and watched the healer look over their son until he was placed in her arms.

Scorpius' face was pink and his mouth wide open in an angry cry.

"Oh, my God." Hermione looked up at him. "Look at him. He's already blonde."

Draco didn't know why he was laughing, but his face was wet when he wiped it on his sleeve. "You are the best person I've ever known," he whispered against her temple. "So fucking brilliant, the both of you." They stayed like that for a long while, until Granger's exhaustion finally caught up to her, and the healer said it would be best for her to rest for a short while.

He sat in the chair until her breathing evened out, and held Scorpius. He'd stopped crying some time ago after Granger fed him, and now his eyes were barely open.

"I'm going to do everything I can," Draco whispered, watching tiny fingers curl around his one finger. "I promise to always protect you, and to love you. I'm not sure you'll love the person I've been when you grow up, but I'll become whoever it is you need me to be."

* * *

While Hermione slept, he stepped into the waiting room, and watched his mother shoot to her feet. Lucius was not far behind, and then everyone was on their feet. Potter looked worn, and Weasley's eyes were rimmed with red. "Don't keep us waiting. Who won on picking the name?" Potter asked.

"This is Scorpius Malfoy, my son." Narcissa waited eagerly at the edge, and Draco handed Scorpius to her first. "Granger's sleeping right now, but she'll be happy to know all of you were here."

Potter stepped forward, and held out a rolled up newspaper. "Well, I think she'll want to see that when she wakes up. You should look at it now though."

With everyone watching him, Draco let it unfurl in his hands and turned it over.

**BRITISH MINISTRY REVERSES PROJECT APHRODITE**

"I managed to receive an advance copy." Lucius announced. "It will take effect in the next few months, and the details will be made public this week. Hermione and I made preparations for when this finally came to pass. We're planning to help those affected with the legal process of dissolving forced marriages, monetary compensation, and whatever is needed. Whenever she's ready, of course."

Draco smirked. "I have no doubt she'll be in with Scorpius before the week is out."

* * *

It was worth all of the irritation that had come with putting together the nursery she'd picked, when Granger stepped into the room with Scorpius swaddled in her arms. With her lips parting in a visible reaction, she lifted their son and hid a wide smile behind him. "Draco…"

"You'll probably notice that there's a scuff on the wardrobe, but it's at the bottom and Weasley worried that magic may ruin it, but you can blame him for the scuff."

She laughed quietly, peeking down at Scorpius. "He sleeps like the dead."

"I wonder if he'll snore like his mother."

"You must be losing steam, Malfoy. I know you're more creative than that." Hermione crossed the room while he lingered in the doorway, content to give her space, laid Scorpius in his crib. She wrapped her fingers around the edge of the raised wood, squeezing until her fingers turned white.

Bridging the gap between them, Draco came to stand at her side and laid his palm at the small of her back. "We don't have to sleep in the other room," he murmured. "We'll stay right here."

She summoned a book and cracked it open.

Draco had known she wouldn't leave the room anyway, and Narcissa had told him exactly that as well. He slid to the floor with her, shrugging out of his jacket while quietly removing his shoes, and waited for her to show him what he'd picked. "The Beetle and the Bard?"

"You think it's a bad choice." Not a question, or even an accusation, but a statement. "I can—"

He laid a hand on her arm, shaking his head. "I don't think it's a bad choice. What do you think of taking turns with reading? Tomorrow, I'll do it and we'll change again."

"I'd like to always be together."

Knowing it might be harder when he returned to work, Draco promised to do everything in his power to always to be home in time, and she knew that with all of it's possible setbacks. Draco curled a finger under her chin and brushed his lips against hers. "We'll always be together."

Granger laid her head on his shoulder as she began a winding tale without looking at the pages at all. Of course she knew it by heart. He rubbed circles over her thigh, laughing when Scorpius made a small sound and smiling when she began to grow tired. Her voice grew tired with it.

She fell asleep while still reading, after starting a passage four times, each while pulling her finger under each line. With her solidly asleep on his shoulder, Draco summoned a pillow from their bedroom and gently laid her down while brushing hair out of her face.

Turning back to the crib, he slipped a hand through slots of wood, and curled a finger around Scorpius' hand. He stayed like that, content and stunned that somehow this had turned out to be his life.

Granger's snore startled him, and he waited with baited breath for Scorpius to wake up, cries bubbling to life. He continued to sleep, however, and he laughed just barely, and under his breath.

* * *

On a cold day twelve months later where the rain was only drizzling, but suspected to open up into a storm, the British Ministry's so called _Marriage Incentive_ was up for hot debate once more. It had been officially overturned after Scorpius had been born, but this press conference was to address the significant changes in the lawsuits against the Ministry. Once again, Draco stood beside his partner as the press release was issued by Minister for Magic Shacklebolt, but unlike the first time, he stared at the ring that now circled his finger.

The Ministry had given the option to have any marriages dissolved, and had since moved to ending marriages under the act unless they were contacted otherwise. Granger and he hadn't talked about it.

Potter nudged him. "You and 'Mione will be alright. The two of you are so sickeningly in love, it makes me want to vomit."

"Thanks, Potter," Draco said dryly. "That's exactly what I needed to hear in order to make me feel better."

He clapped Draco on the back. "Anything for a best mate."

"Do you think Cho will stay married to you?"

"I think we'll let the Ministry do whatever it wants, and the next time I marry her, it'll be because we wanted to. Plus, I'm really tired of everyone else making decisions for me."

Draco knew that he was lucky for how things had fallen into place, as though the spaces had been pre-made for exactly this. Weasley was lucky too, but as he considered this, his eyes swept across the crowd that had formed.

The Ministry had made an error that they would pay for both in compensation and the backlash that would continue for years.

They had paired witches and wizards together, promising a perfect match while disregarding everything to be considered regarding human nature.

The point had been to increase wizarding birth rates, and it hadn't lived up to their expectations, but what of the children that _had_ been born? As he wondered for the parents that would ultimately separate, it was impossible to feel _lucky_ , and if one more person said it to him, he was sure he'd snap at them.

The wizards behind the decision would certainly pay dearly for the choices they had made, and Draco looked forward to seeing Granger at the head of it, dragging them over hot coals.

* * *

From the Floo, he heard her humming and found her setting out a dish for Crooks in the kitchen. "You're home earlier than I thought you'd be. I thought you'd be late."

"Shift change. I'll be late the next two days."

She nodded, still bent down to pet Crooks when he asked how her day had been. "It was rather long. I took Scorpius with me to the orphanage today, but the only way I was able to do absolutely any paperwork was to let Mippy fawn over Scorpius for a few hours."

Draco knew how Mippy adored their son, and would always appear as soon as Scorpius did. "Oh?"

"While I finished drafting my proposal for regulation of Wolfsbane for a final vote in the Wizengamot, Mippy bathed Scorpius, fed him lunch, and played with him. Some days, I]think his first word will be Mippy."

"He adores her." Draco stepped behind her while she reached into the cupboard, pulling her hair to the side and pressed his lips to her neck. "Congratulations on the final proposal. When will you present it?"

She shivered while his lips moved across her shoulder, tongue darting out to slide along her pulse. "On Friday. Your father is certain they're going to pass anything I put on the table so I'll stop spearheading the several lawsuits posed against them."

"Oh, but you're not going to do that, are you?" His teeth grazed her skin, and then he blew a breath over the same spot, watching her fingers grip the counter top.

"No, she tilted her head to the side, and pressed her arse into him. "But I'll let them think that if they like."

Curling his fingers along her jaw, he breathed out a laugh. "How very Slytherin of you."

She turned to face him, and reached up to cup his jaw. "Despite what it took to get here, I'm glad to have this life with you." Granger wiped dust away from his shoulder. "Though, we could have gotten here much sooner had you—"

Slamming his lips to hers, and gripping her by the waist to deposit her on top of the counter, he growled, "Will you ever let that go?"

Her laughter was muffled by him, and she snaked her arms around his shoulders and pulled him forward by digging her heels into his arse. "Probably not." Granger gnawed her bottom lip and his wandering hands stilled. "It's not—nothing's wrong, Draco, It's just that we received a letter from the Ministry today."

"Hermione—"

She pecked his lips. "Stop it. We're fine, but the Ministry will dissolve our marriage if we don't reply. It's been a year and we thought we didn't need to let them know since we've stayed together, but— Well, I know we're happy but I also know that this was never part of the plan. So, I worried that maybe you would like to think about it—" Granger wouldn't meet his eyes as she tugged at the two rings joined together on her finger.

He laid his hand over hers. "I'll marry you again tomorrow, if you want. Fuck, I'll force someone to marry us right _now_ , if you want."

Shaking her head, Granger's laugh was sharp, and she realized her error the moment it happened. "Oh, no."

Scorpius woke with a loud, shrill cry and Draco snorted. "Let me put him to bed." He kissed her forehead, and pushed her wedding set back onto her finger. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

"I'll be sure to be appropriately dressed." She winked and hopped off the counter.

He opened the door to the nursery and found Scorpius standing up, fingers gripping the side of his crib. It had become a habit, and Draco grinned when Scorpius smacked the wood. "Shh, it's alright." He scooped him up.

Swaying usually worked better when Granger did it, and Draco would swear their son _did_ have a favorite. Slowly though, his crying began to quiet and he wiped Scorpius' cheeks. "Now, I'm just going to lay you down so I can—"

"Mum."

He froze, gaze sliding down to Scorpius' slightly pink face. "What did you say?"

"Mum."

Draco covered Scorpius' ears and yelled, "Granger!" He heard the padding of her footsteps immediately and she entered the room while fastening a robe around her waist. "I think Scorpius has something to say to you." He had not considered the fact that Scorpius might not even say it again.

"Draco, you cannot yell like that. I thought something—"

Scorpius mumbled, "Mum," and leaned toward her.

She shot forward, and bundled Scorpius into her arms, lifting him up until he giggled. Granger must have noticed him staring at her, and she must have seen what he knew was a dopey smile on his face too, but she continued to toss Scorpius up and catch him until he said it again.

He was a lucky bloke, and she was right—she always was, really.

Eventually, everything connects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, I posted on tumblr two months ago that I'm not writing HP fanfic anymore. This still holds true in the fact that I'm not going to be actively posting, or writing, but if I finish something I will drop it all at once. I happened to finish all of this at once. 
> 
> I hope it's enjoyable, and sorry if it's not and hope the world is treating you well! You can reach me in the comments, FFN messages, or on tumblr at mrsren.

**Author's Note:**

> I would really love to hear what you think! I'm posting this at midnight because I like to wake up to reactions. I've never actually said that, but that's why they come so late my time! See you for chapter two next time!


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